Carrie: Awakening
by Tricia1985
Summary: A look at some of what happened leading up to and following the prom tragedy with additional emphasis on the supporting characters and events only briefly covered in the book/movies. The prologue/intoduction is kind of a begins with the end sort of thing. All rights belong to Stephen King/Brian DePalma etc.
1. Chapter 1

_Awakening _

_Prologue_

_Unsuspecting_

_Miss Desjardin_

It truly had been a wonderful night. She wasn't typically prone to romanticism, but she had to admit that there was a certain _magic _in the air. It was the first dance Rita Desjardin had ever chaperoned, and although she started the evening with a fair amount of trepidation, things had really turned out nicely. Mr. Morton, the assistant principal, had expressed some concern that there might be an issue with prom crashers this year. Three students had been denied their prom tickets, but only one – Christine Hargensen - was viewed as a potential problem. She was nowhere to be seen, though. Sure, there were some of the usual issues that always plague school functions, but by and large it went without a hitch. She really was enjoying herself.

While her own prom had hit a number of snags, she wouldn't have traded the memories she had of that evening for anything in the world. Miss Desjardin hoped that she could play a small role in creating something special for the students at Ewen High. From the looks of things, she had succeeded. Everyone was smiling and laughing. She definitely had a case of the warm and fuzzies going on. Besides, it was a rare opportunity for her to wear nice clothes and hit the salon. Being a gym teacher wasn't exactly conducive to high fashion and she did notice the looks she got from some of the boys. She was wearing a beautiful silver sheath dress that hugged her figure in just the right places without being too clingy or revealing with a matching set of kitten heals (which were now starting to hurt). She couldn't remember the name of the shade of white-silver polish she had on her nails, but promised to stop back ask. Her hair was flawless. She was also stunned at how nicely the other chaperones were dressed, although she did think that Mrs. Rennie's outfit made her look a little too much like Misery Chastain.

Miss Desjardin had spent much of the early evening dancing and chatting with her students outside of a gym class setting. This was the sort of thing she had in mind when she became a teacher and was much more pleasant than overseeing detentions and issuing suspensions. It had been a rough year, and she was feeling more than a little drained and discouraged. She was even starting to have doubts about whether or not she was cut out to be a teacher. Tonight none of that mattered. She was having fun with her students and things were perfect. Well, mostly. Samantha McManus had rolled her ankle while dancing to an up tempo pop song with Katie O'Shea and Rhonda Simard. Miss Desjardin had made a mental note to be careful. She didn't often wear heals and really didn't want to trip in front of the entire graduating class.

As good as things were, there was a moment that gave her pause. She had been dancing with Jessica Upshaw and her date, Frank Grier, when she noticed heads begin to turn in her direction. She knew she wasn't _that _good a dancer, and although Jessica was, she doubted it was her moves that were drawing all of those stares. Miss Desjardin's heart skipped a beat when she turned and saw what all the commotion was about. Tommy Ross was gently leading Carrie past the photo booth and through the crowd. She was well aware of Sue Snell's plan to give Carrie a shot at being part of things, but was secretly worried that it would do more harm than good. She didn't want to see her get hurt, especially not after what happened in the locker room. Part of her had even hoped that either Carrie would back out at the last moment, or that Tommy would stand her up. She felt terrible about thinking such things, but couldn't shake the feeling that something would go wrong. Miss Desjardin hadn't always been nice to Carrie, and had, on occasion, thought of her as an irritating cry-baby. She regretted having those thoughts, and seeing Carrie happy – seeing her _smile_ - made her feel more than a little guilty.

Carrie looked absolutely radiant. Her satin dress was a soft, feminine pink and looked as if it was made specifically for her (Miss Desjardin found out later that Carrie had made it _herself_). She had a matching lace shawl, and a heart-shaped beaded clutch. Carrie had taken Miss Desjardin's advice and was wearing make-up – just enough to highlight her eyes and cheeks. Her hair was subtly styled and her nails were done in a similar shade of pink. Miss Desjardin was almost left breathless. It was as if a transformation had taken place, and in a very real sense, one had. Carrie was visibly nervous, but was soldiering on. Every now and then Tommy would whisper something to her, causing her to smile and blush. When they reached the table they were assigned to sit at, Tommy pulled her chair out for her. He was being the perfect gentleman. Maybe things would be OK after all.

As the night wore on, Miss Desjardin made a conscious effort not to stray too far from Carrie and Tommy. She had given Tina, Heather and the Twins the riot act earlier and was keeping an eye on Helen Shyres. Mr. McGovern and the Boys' gym teacher, Coach Schmidt, were keeping an eye on Kenny Garson and his group of friends. So far, everyone had more or less been on their best behavior. At one point, Vicky Hanscome had to be warned off from approaching Carrie. She had claimed that she was only going to say hello and compliment Carrie on her dress. Miss Desjardin thought Vicky sounded a little too sweet and innocent, but she gave up easily enough. All in all, things were good. Tommy was very attentive and some of the other students were starting to warm up to Carrie. Frieda Jason and Cindy Yang were chatting with her and Norma Watson had actually complimented her on her dress.

Remarkably, Carrie actually seemed to be demonstrating some semblance of self-confidence. Her arms weren't folded over her chest, and she hadn't slouched at all since she arrived. She still had that vaguely baffled look on her face, and her eyes still darted to a fro, but she really seemed to be coming out of her shell. She even made eye contact with those who spoke to her! Miss Desjardin was proud of her. She knew it would be terrifying for Carrie to put herself out there, especially given what happened in the locker room. But here she was, doing just that. She had chatted with Carrie while Tommy was getting them some punch and cookies. Miss Desjardin had apologized for slapping her – for not being as good a teacher as she could have been. She was afraid that she was still angry at her, and she found that she couldn't really blame her if she was. That fear evaporated when Carrie leaned over and hugged her tightly. A strange feeling of warmth settled over her. She knew Carrie didn't like to be touched, and would flinch away from anyone who did. That's what made it all the more amazing when she initiated the embrace.

Miss Desjardin's relief was short lived. Off to one side of the dance floor, Chris Hargensen's friends were chatting together, occasionally looking furtively in Carrie's direction. She was too far away to hear what they were saying, but it certainly didn't look good. Her heart sank when she saw them move en masse towards where Carrie was sitting. They seem to have waited until Tommy was preoccupied with George Dawson. Whatever they were up to, Miss Desjardin knew she needed to put a stop to it. The last thing she wanted was a repetition of the incident with the tampons – and there was always the possibility that they collectively came up with something even worse.

_Unbelievable! Can't they just leave her alone? _Miss Desjardin thought bitterly. Images of Carrie sitting on the steps outside of the gym, sobbing into her hands flashed through her mind. _And tonight of all nights! If they ruin this for her, so help me…_

She fumed as she worked her way over to Carrie's table, occasionally dodging errant students. _If they make her cry, I swear I'll see to that they don't graduate. I don't know how yet, but I'll find some way of doing it. _

The girls, led by Tina Blake, had hemmed Carrie in. She was now on her feet, and looked very uncomfortable. It was obvious that she also expected something bad to happen. Miss Desjardin closed the distance, but was too late to catch the beginning of the exchange.

"Oh, **SHIT!" **Rachel Spies shrieked from the next table over. A full cup of punch had tipped over on its own accord, spilling its contents onto her lap. Her date patted clumsily at her dress until she slapped his hand away.

"I know you have no reason to believe me – to believe us, but we really are sorry," Tina said. She sounded sincere and the other girls in the clique nodded in agreement with her. "There's only a month left before we graduate, and we wanted to apologize for being so mean to you for so long."

"Especially for what happened when you were having your… you know? We should have been more understanding. It was wrong, and we all feel terrible about it," Heather said, placing a hand on Carrie's shoulder.

"We shouldn't have laughed at you," Nikki said.

"And we really shouldn't have thrown sanitary napkins at you," Lizzi added.

"Or chanted _plug it up_," Nikki and Lizzi said simultaneously.

"And we definitely shouldn't have filmed the whole thing," Tina said, staring at the floor rather.

"I'm sorry about the time I hit you in the mouth with a hockey stick and chipped your tooth," Vicky added, smiling sheepishly.

"H-how do I know you're not just trying to trick me again?" Carrie asked. Her newfound confidence seemed to waiver. Her arms were again folded over her chest, and her eyes were cast downwards. "I really don't want to be tricked. Not tonight, please?"

"We mean it. We _all _do." Tina was emphatic. "We should have apologized a long time ago. We never should have let it get out of hand like this."

Miss Desjardin couldn't believe what she was hearing. She stood silently behind the popular girls, her fists clenched. She was ready and willing to intervene if they uttered so much as a single unkind word.

"I-I forgive you. I don't like holding grudges," Carrie said softly. "I forgive you."

Tina and the others seemed overjoyed. They thanked her, taking turns patting her on the shoulder and offering her compliments on her dress. Heather wanted to know what brand Carrie's nail polish was and if she had them done professionally. Vicky gave Carrie a hug that looked almost painful – which was somewhat frightening given how lightly built Vicky was. Miss Desjardin relaxed a bit. She still had doubts about their sincerity, but at least for tonight it seemed they would be nice to her. Carrie turned and smiled at Miss Desjardin.

At around 9, the DJ shifted away from upbeat pop tunes towards songs that were more appropriate for slow dancing. Most of the couples were out on the dance floor, gently swaying in time to the music. The other chaperones were circulating around the throng, making sure no one did anything too untoward. Miss Desjardin agreed to take a turn around the floor with Mr. Ullman, but regretted it almost immediately: Mr. Ullman had busy hands. Mr. Fromm had staked out a spot near the snack table, salvaging the last couple of brownies for himself. Tommy and Carrie were dancing together, her head resting on his shoulder. She couldn't help smile at the image. Carrie seemed so secure and happy! It was touching.

Soon the time came to vote for the prom king and queen. Everyone took their seats and filled out the ballots the student council volunteers had distributed. Jessica Upshaw and Frank Grier were the most likely to win. Jessica had been campaigning for prom queen for most of the spring. Although she really didn't expect Tommy and Carrie to win, Miss Desjardin voted for them without hesitation. At the very least she wanted to be able to honestly say that did so. She was happy to see that she wasn't the only one; she overheard Mr. McGovern and his wife discussing voting for them as well.

Everyone was surprised when Vic Moony read the results. Tommy and Carrie _had _won. It was close, with only a margin of twenty or so votes. The applause was tentative at first, but gradually became thunderous. Carrie seemed the most surprised out of all. Her eyes swam with tears and she trembled as she got up from her seat. Tommy took her hand and guided her to the stage. Mrs. Rennie and Mr. McGovern's wife each gave Carrie a quick hug as she passed by. Even Mr. Fromm and Mr. Ullman were clapping. It really did look like a scene out of a fairy tale. Carrie was absolutely radiant. Norma Watson handed Carrie a bouquet and gave her a quick kiss on the cheek as Jennifer Petrie placed a tiara on her head. The gym was filled with strobe flashes and every cell phone camera was focused on the new king and queen.

It was tradition at Ewen High for the newly crown prom king and queen to select the song for the last dance of the night. Tommy deferred to Carrie, insisting that she pick the song. It was her evening after all. She ended up selecting the love theme from a certain James Cameron film about a sinking ocean liner. The rest of the student body cleared the dance floor and clapped as Tommy and Carrie had their moment together. Even Chris Hargensen's clique, the Ultras – at least those in attendance, cheered when they finished. Carrie gave Tommy a quick, fleeting kiss on the cheek, blushing furiously afterwards.

The festivities were coming to a close, and the students were filtering out of the gym. Most of them were probably going to after-parties in Castle Rock or Lewiston. Tina and the other Ultras said their goodbyes to Carrie and promised to sign her yearbook on Monday. Tommy had promised to take Carrie out for a quick bite to eat (one that didn't involve cavity inducing punch or cookies) and was walking her out to the limo when they passed Miss Desjardin. Carrie let go of Tommy's hand and promptly gave her gym teacher one last hug.

"Thank you!" Carrie said, squeezing tightly – a little too tightly. Miss Desjardin's right shoulder began to throb.

_July 8__th__, 201-_

_It took a moment or two for the fog of sleep to lift. It was 5:35 in the morning and Rita Desjardin was in her old bedroom at her parent's house in New Haven, Connecticut. She had rolled over onto her right side while she was asleep and now it hurt. _

"_It was just a dream," she muttered to herself. She actually preferred the nightmares. As horrible as they were, they didn't dangle hope in front of her the way this dream had. She knew, lying there alone, that there had been no happy ending. She had tried to help, but it proved to be too little and far too late. _

_The air conditioner droned in the darkness. She had fallen asleep without setting the sleep timer on her TV and a news anchorwoman was reporting the latest information about what they were calling the Chamberlain tragedy. The official death toll was now at 473 following the deaths of two of the most seriously injured. The anchor speculated that the number of dead might continue to rise for some time considering the number of victims suffering from severe burns. To make matters worse, bodies were still being found periodically as rubble was being removed. The National Guard had been deployed to Chamberlain, and the President was scheduled to give a statement later in the day. _

_Memories flooded back as she became more alert and oriented. Carrie was dead. So was most of Ewen High School's graduating class – along with a sizable portion of Chamberlain's citizenry. She didn't remember how it happened, but her right shoulder had been dislocated at some point during the disaster. She did remember how her nose ended up broken. After the blood, she had tried to get to Carrie. She wanted to comfort her - to whisk off stage and away from the horror. She didn't make it to the stage. She watched as Rhonda Simard was electrocuted and Tina Blake burned to death. In vivid, living color she'd see it happen over and over again – as if someone had hit replay. It didn't matter if she was awake or asleep. It still haunted her and would probably do so for the remainder of her life._

_There had been fire and screaming. She had watched her student's die. A part of her had died that night as well. She had dreamed of being a teacher, but now she couldn't bear the thought of ever stepping foot in a school again. Once things settled down, she would tender her resignation. She thought she was helping. She thought she had done the right thing. Because of her people had died._

_Rita Desjardin closed her eyes. She knew the tears would come – just as she knew the nightmares and flashbacks would return. She was grateful for the fact that the air conditioner would mask the sound of her sobbing. She didn't want her mom and dad to worry more than they already did._

_Author's Notes: This is the first part of a story that, I hope, will fill in some of the gaps in the book and films. The story will, again hopefully, cover some of the events and flesh out some of the relationships hinted at or briefly mentioned in the canon media. It will probably cover a period starting with Carrie as a kid (think ten or so) and run up to a month or two after the prom disaster. Carrie's Day Off, Art Class and BFFs will probably end up falling closer towards the end. _


	2. Chapter 2 - Friend?

_Awakening_

_Chapter 1_

_Friend?_

_May, 200-, 13 years before the prom_

_Estelle Horan, Carrie White_

_ "A lot of people have asked me if I ever noticed anything about [Carrie] while living next door – things like if I've ever seen her start fires or if I've ever heard anything about her abusing animals. I've said time and time again, that she was just a typical kid. Her home life, from what I had seen of it, was rough, and of course there was the incident with the stones… but I never would have thought she was capable of what she did. I know that people are looking for clues – for some sort of warning that might have been overlooked, but what I saw and what I remember is that Carrie was just a shy, sweet little girl. She wasn't some sort of budding sociopath. I don't know what her mother may have done to her after we moved away, but the Carrie I knew – the little girl I remember – wasn't a monster."_

_- Excerpt from an interview with Estelle Horan. Chester's Mill Democrat. Printed March 13, 201-_

It was far too nice a day to stay indoors. She had homework to do, but just couldn't seem to bring herself to do it – not with the sun shining and a gentle breeze blowing. She did bring one of her schoolbooks out into the backyard with her, thinking that she could technically say she was studying. It was sitting next to her CD player, untouched and almost forgotten. Who could blame her, though? It really was a beautiful Saturday afternoon and she knew she'd kick herself later if she wasted it shut up in her stuffy bedroom. Her grades were fine and her professors at Lewin Community College liked her; she could afford a little down time.

Estelle Horan was lying on her stomach on a chaise lounge, half-listening to a CD mix a boy from one of her accounting classes had made for her. She was far too modest to admit it, but Estelle was gorgeous. She was gifted with the sort of natural beauty and poise that would usually grace the cover of _Vogue _or _Mademoiselle._ Her long, honey blonde hair was pulled into a careless ponytail, and she had on a floral two piece bathing suit that covered just enough to keep Mr. Kirk, who lived behind the Horan's, from getting any untoward ideas. The CD she was listening to had played through, and was about to restart when Estelle heard soft singing coming from the yard next door. It was a fairly young neighborhood, and it wasn't unusual to hear people sing or hum while weeding or doing other chores. What was odd about it was that it sounded like Margaret White's daughter, Carrie, singing.

Margaret was extremely protective and typically kept a very close eye on her child. It struck Estelle as strange that she was nowhere to be seen. In spite of outward appearances, there were rumors about the quality of Margaret's parenting and some of the other families living on that stretch of Carlin Street speculated that there was some form of abuse or neglect going on at the White bungalow. The periodic screaming and sobbing emanating from their home did little to convince people otherwise. Some of it could have been what Estelle's mother referred to as holy rolling, but there was still the possibility that something was seriously wrong.

Estelle did harbor some suspicions, but never publically weighed in on the matter. She was in the habit of exercising caution around Margaret. Outwardly, she seemed like a relatively competent and affectionate parent, albeit one with some peculiar religious beliefs. Estelle would see her occasionally taking Carrie to the park, or spending time together out in their backyard. However, she also had seen Margaret lose her temper on more than one occasion, and by virtue of living next door had overheard some of the ranting and raving that the rest of the block had grown concerned about. It was possible that she might be abusing Carrie, but Estelle had no real proof. That being said, Estelle wasn't particularly frightened of Margaret; she just felt that discretion and a wide birth were the safest bet. On the other hand, she _had_ been afraid of her husband, Ralph, and wouldn't have put child abuse past him had he been around after Carrie was born. There was also the persistent rumor that he had carried a .38 revolver with him wherever he went. Estelle would never admit it publically, but she was relieved that he was out of the picture.

Carrie was sitting primly on the grass underneath a dogwood tree. She was playing with a stuffed lamb and singing a song Estelle couldn't identify. It sounded vaguely religious, but try as she might, she couldn't place the tune. She was wearing a green, floral printed sundress and the dappled light played off of her pale strawberry blonde hair. Estelle thought she looked like one of the _American Girl _dolls she had when she was little. Every now and then Carrie would cuddle the lamb, making a soft cooing sound. Estelle glanced around briefly as she approached the girl, just to make sure Margaret wasn't in the vicinity. Margaret wasn't a particularly easy person to get along with – and both Estelle and her mother have had several run-ins with her over the years. She could only imagine how Margaret would react if she were to catch her on her property, wearing only a bathing suit and a faux-sarong.

Estelle was an only child, and periodically thought about what it would be like to have a little sister. She had pictured herself as the sort of fun, dependable older sister that often appeared on the sit-coms her father was fond of. She was somewhat disappointed, but not terribly surprised, that Margaret White never asked her to babysit Carrie. Estelle was known as the best, most responsible babysitter in the neighborhood and she had sat for several other families on Carlin Street. She also knew Margaret took issue with her sunbathing, and had gotten into heated shouting matches about it with her mother on more than one occasion. In fact, just the other week Margaret had harangued her and Lindsay Erbter for subjecting her baby to "lewd and Godless" music. They were listening to some innocuous pop songs and hadn't noticed that Margaret had brought Carrie out to keep her company while she did some light weeding. Things quickly got heated and Mrs. White had dubbed Estelle the "Whore of Babylon." It was safe to say that neighborly relations have hit a low point when one party calls the other the whore of Babylon.

"Hi Carrie! Whatcha doing?" Estelle asked, as she squatted down beside her. Carrie gave Estelle a strange sort of smile; tinged with worry and curiosity. It might have been a trick of her imagination, but Estelle thought she could see her reflection in Carrie's big, button-brown eyes.

"Playing, 'Stella!" Carrie said cheerfully. She always seemed to have some trouble pronouncing her name, but Estelle didn't mind. It was adorable. Carrie resumed singing something or other about a good shepherd. Estelle glanced over to the house, expecting to see Margaret watching them from one of the windows overlooking the backyard.

"Your lamb is really cute! Can I see her?" Estelle asked. She didn't really know why she referred to Carrie's stuffed animal as a she. It just seemed right. Carrie stopped singing and clutched her lamb to her chest.

"It's OK," Estelle said softly. "I won't hurt her and I'll give her right back. Promise."

Carrie eyed the older girl nervously, but handed over her stuffed friend. The lamb was off white with a black muzzle and grey hooves. It smelled faintly of dryer sheets and in spite of being well-loved, was still in good shape. It looked like it was hand-made. Estelle gave the toy a hug and held it up to her ear and pantomimed listening to whispered secrets.

"She says she loves you very much and that you take_ very_ good care of her," Estelle said, returning the stuffed animal. Carrie beamed and blushed vividly as she squeezed it tightly to her.

"You're silly!" Carrie said, her eyes twinkling. "She can't talk! She's only a stuffed animal!" Carrie pronounced animal as aminal. "Momma made her for me."

"That was very nice of her! Your momma must love you very much as well." A beat. "Where _is _your mother?" Carrie shrugged her shoulders. Estelle wasn't exactly nervous, but she didn't want to get into an argument with Margaret in front of Carrie. She also didn't think it was a good idea to leave a three year old unsupervised. _Where _was Margaret? Would she have just let Carrie wander off? What if she left the backyard? What if something were to happen? _It's the neighborly thing to do. She wouldn't be angry with me for keeping an eye on Carrie. Would she?_

"Stella?" Carrie looked at Estelle with disturbingly unchildlike earnestness. "Can we be friends?"

"Of course, honey!" Estelle was taken aback. Slow, creeping sadness seemed to take hold in her. Estelle had wanted a little sister, and she certainly wouldn't have minded playing the role of big sis to Carrie. Something nagged at her, though. She wouldn't have thought a three year old would be capable of sounding desperate, but that's exactly how Carrie sounded. _Poor thing! _She thought. _She _does _seem lonely. _ "I'd love to! We're already neighbors, so we should be friends, too!"

Carrie seemed overjoyed. She set her lamb gently on the grass and gave Estelle the biggest hug her little arms could manage. In spite of the gnawing sadness, Estelle couldn't help but smile. She thought it was wonderful that such a simple act of kindness – the promise of friendship – could have that kind impact on a person. It really wouldn't be that big a deal to spend a little time with Carrie. She _could _be a positive role-model, she'd just have to convince Mrs. White it would be OK. _I can do it! I really think I can! _

"You know, my Momma said she'd bake some cookies," Estelle said cheerfully, squatting down so she could look Carrie in her eyes. "Well, they're not exactly homemade…the dough comes in a tube. But they're still really yummy – especially when they're just out of the ov…"

"Carrie? Carrietta? **CARRIETTA?**" Estelle heard Margaret before she saw her, and gave Carrie the _shush _gesture as she slipped between the hedges. Carrie, apparently thinking this was some sort of game, mimicked Estelle.

Margaret stormed out of the screened in back porch. She was looking frantically this way and that. Even from afar, Estelle could see she was distraught. Margaret had on a slate grey button down shirt (despite the warm weather, her sleeves weren't rolled up) and a navy blue skirt that fell well past her knees. Her long, auburn hair was done in a simple plait and a pair of glasses hung on a lanyard around her neck. Every now and then, she would run her hands down her cheeks.

"Carrie! _**CARRIE!**_" Margaret muttered something under her breath that Estelle was unable to hear. Carrie, who had been quietly peering out from behind the dogwood tree, stepped out into the open.

"Momma!" She shouted happily, as she ran to her mother. Margaret turned around and picked up her daughter, embracing her. Estelle thought Margaret was squeezing Carrie far too hard, and winced in sympathy. Carrie didn't seem to mind though, and affectionately nuzzled her mother.

"When you hear me call your name, say something!" Margaret said. She sounded angry, but there was also tangible relief in her voice. "Don't you ever scare Momma like that again! Don't you ever wander off! I was _so _worried!"

"Now, go back on inside. Momma baked cookies for you. Only take one, though. I don't want you to ruin your supper." Margaret set Carrie down and tapped her gently on the nose with her finger. She watched as her little girl scampered off towards the back door. Estelle was also watching the byplay, silently from her side of the property line, when she noticed that Carrie's lamb was still sitting in the grass where she had set it down earlier. Taking a deep breath, she once again crossed into the White's yard, picking up the lamb as she went.

"Uh, Mrs. White?" Estelle approached cautiously, holding out Carrie's stuffed animal as if it were a sacrificial offering. Margaret wheeled to face her, and for a brief moment, Estelle could have sworn that her eyes were glowing. _They look just like her husband's eyes_, Estelle thought, with a shudder. Her eyes seemed to convey a silent menace – wordless threats. Whatever she thought she had seen in Margaret's eyes was gone a mere heartbeat later, in its place was the typical look of vague disdain she always seemed to have whenever she had dealings with Estelle and her parents. Up close, Estelle could see that Margaret had scratches running down her cheeks and her blouse's left-breast pocket had been torn. Something in her subconscious vaguely made the connection between her running her hands down her face and the bloody claw marks. _She wasn't scourging herself, was she?_

"You're indecent," Margaret said with a sigh, looking Estelle up and down. "I cannot, for the life of me, understand why your parents would ever let you set foot outside of your house practically undressed. I'll pray that you see the error of your ways before it is too late…and before you _corrupt_ any poor innocent soul you might encounter."

"Carrie dropped this," Estelle said curtly, ignoring Margaret's reproach. "I think she'd be upset if she lost it."

Margaret blinked slowly as she accepted the offered toy. She pressed the stuffed lamb to her chest in much the same way Carrie had earlier.

"Thank you. She'd be heartbroken," Margaret said. The previous look of contempt had faded, and what might have passed for a smile crossed her lips. "She's my angel."

Estelle watched as Margaret turned and walked back. She felt just as conflicted about Margaret White as she had before. It really did seem like she cared for Carrie, but there was something else there – something much less wholesome, almost dangerous. Sighing, she went and gathered up her radio and textbook. She didn't really feel much like sunbathing anymore.

May came to a close, and Estelle had passed her courses with flying colors. She landed a part-time job for the summer, but still managed to work in plenty of sunbathing. She only occasionally saw Carrie over the next couple of months, and never caught sight of her without her mother. Every now and then Carrie would surreptitiously wave to Estelle. Estelle still heard occasional screaming and crying from the White's home, but there really wasn't much she could do about it. She had considered calling the Department of Children and Families once, but thought better of it. There was still the possibility that she could be wrong and she dreaded the thought of causing anyone any unnecessary grief – even someone like Margaret White. Life more or less settled into a comfortable routine. Things were pretty mundane, save for one strange incident on a mild evening in late June. It was a nice, relatively cool evening and they had left the upstairs windows open in order to take advantage of the pleasant breeze. Estelle and her parents were watching the Boston Red Sox lose to the New York Yankees when the screaming resumed next door. That in of itself wasn't particularly odd, what _was_ odd was the fact that the double hung windows on the second floor of the Horan residence all slammed shut at once with enough force for the glass to shatter outwards. The next morning, Estelle found out that something similar had happened at the White bungalow and the Kirk's and the Donato's as well. There were a couple of theories floating around as to what caused the windows to break, but nobody knew for certain.

August rolled around, and Mrs. Horan and Margaret White had resumed their feud over Estelle's choice of sunbathing attire. Apart from a couple of face to face confrontations, much the arguing took place over the phone. It appeared that Margaret had no qualms about airing her grievances from the comfort of her living room. Estelle really didn't want to cause any undue problems, but with what might be a damp fall followed by a harsh Maine winter on the horizon, she thought it would be worth the risk of provoking another angry phone call to soak up a little extra sun. The smell of fresh cut grass and the distant drone of the lawn mower were soothing and Estelle yawned impressively as she chose the perfect place to flop out. Moments later she was stretched out comfortably on a beach towel, asleep and blissfully unaware that the top of her white bikini and slipped a couple of inches out of place. She was in the middle of an unremarkably pleasant dream when something snapped her back into reality. Estelle didn't have the exact term to describe the sensation, but an old cliché about feeling like you're being watched came to mind. Groggy, she half opened her eyes.

"Oh, hi Carrie," she said, suppressing a yawn. "You startled me."

"What are those?" Carrie asked, pointing at Estelle's chest.

_Bonus_

_May, 201-_

_One week before prom_

Carrie sat on the edge of her bed and stared intently on a trio of stuffed animals, two bunnies and her beloved lamb, resting on top of her dressing table. The worst of the cramping had passed, but her head still ached dully, and she had a crick in her neck from spending most of the evening in her closet. Momma had offered to reheat dinner for her after she had let her out, but Carrie declined. Every time she closed her eyes, images of the day's events came flooding back.

_They all laughed at me! _She thought bitterly. Even some of the nicer girls had laughed and chanted and thrown things. She wasn't surprised that Chris Hargensen and the Ultras had laughed at her. She wasn't even shocked that Sue Snell had been involved. Over the past couple of years, Sue had become much more hostile towards her, almost as if she felt she had something to prove to the other girls in her clique. Sue was an Ultra, that's all there was to it.

The fact that some of the others had also participated had been a surprise. Carrie knew Erika Gogan didn't think very highly of her, but she never thought she _hated _her enough to join in on something like this. And then there was Katie O'Shea and Holly Marshall. Carrie didn't consider them friends – she was at the point where she no longer presumed _anyone_ was a friend – but they had never gone out of their way to be mean to her. _They all were involved – laughing and throwing _things _at me_.

_Tampons. They were throwing _Tampons_ at me. _Carrie had only the vaguest idea what they were used for. She had been excused from taking health class on religious grounds since the 5th grade and _Momma _certainly never thought to tell her. That's probably what hurt the most. It was as if it was just another dirty trick, only now Momma herself had been complicit in it. _Why didn't you tell me?_

_I thought I was dying… I was _certain_ I was dying and instead of helping me, they mocked me. They stood there and laughed and threw things while I was curled up naked and screaming in the corner. Worst of all, they had their phones out and were recording the _whole _thing! _

_And then Miss Desjardin… _Carrie's hand moved reflexively to the cheek where her teacher had slapped her. By that point in the year, Miss Desjardin no longer had any patience for Carrie: compassion fatigue had well and truly set in. Carrie didn't really blame her for being frustrated, but there was something else in that slap that had stayed with her. _She enjoyed it. _Carrie thought. _ She's just as disgusted and fed up with me as everyone else. _

She took three slow, deep breaths and shut her eyes tightly. With her mind, she reached out and tried to touch the stuffed animals; imagined holding them in her hands. She felt her heart thud in her chest and her headache grew steadily worse. _Concentrate on the lamb, _she thought. _Just like the stones and Tommy Erbter. Focus_

_ Flex._

Carrie opened her eyes. Nothing had happened - well, almost nothing. One of the bunnies seemed to be leaning at a different angle than before and it almost looked as though the lamb had moved. She considered trying again, but her head was throbbing now, and she was worn out. With a sigh, she stood and walked over to her dressing table and gathered her stuffed animals up into her arms. She had thought she had outgrown sleeping with stuffed animals, but after the day she had, she was no longer certain. At the very least they wouldn't judge her or laugh at her. She placed them gently on her bed and crawled between the sheets. She switched off her nightstand lamp and was soon fast asleep.

When Margaret came in to wake her daughter the next morning, she was surprised to see Carrie cuddling the stuffed lamb she had made for her when she was just a baby.

_Author's notes:_

_I got the idea for the lamb from the Carrie made-for-TV movie. I thought it would be kind of cute to write a little about it. There were some promotional pics from the 2013 remake that featured a bloody stuffed bunny. I'm not sure if it was used in production or was just a gag. Lindsay Erbter is made up – she's Tommy's (aka the creepy Carrie brat's) older sister. I'm thinking about adding notes for some of the less developed characters (IE Tina, Vicky, Miss Desjardin) to the end of the next one. I'm not sure if this chapter really works – I have some doubts about it, but thought that since the next couple are probably going to be darker in tone, I'd take a shot at a "warm and fuzzy" fic – or as warm and fuzzy as Carrie can get._


	3. Bonus 1 - Pretty?

_Carrie: Awakening_

_Bonus: Pretty?_

_Junior Year_

_Carrie White, Erika Gogan_

"_Everyone laughed at her. I mean, it was kind of hard not to. Most of us didn't really mean anything by it. We weren't trying to hurt her. It just kind of happened automatically. She was always saying and doing weird things. She always seemed so… clueless. Part of me thought she was acting that way deliberately – at least some of the time. I used to think she was doing it for attention. I didn't laugh when they tipped the bucket, though. Some people did, and I might have if I hadn't been quicker on the uptake: it took me a moment to realize what had happened. Quite a few people laughed – at least at first. The laughter stopped when those doors slammed shut. That's when the screaming and crying began. People here are still crying. Nobody is laughing anymore."_

_- Interview with Erika Gogan on Good Morning, Maine (originally aired November 15, 201- ). _

Erika Gogan was moving through the hallway at a fair clip. Her target destination was the ladies' room near the gym and she was sorely regretting the second latte she had during lunch. Fortunately, her English teacher had a relaxed policy regarding bathroom breaks. She usually wasn't one to abuse the hall policy by stepping outside to smoke or by going missing for half of the period, and unlike most high-school juniors, she prided herself on being responsible. Sure, she had her faults; she could be competitive and more than a few of her peers felt she was arrogant, but she also believed that her responsibility and maturity made up for it. As far as Erika was concerned, maturity was key and she did her level best to always be mature and responsible. She did slip up from time to time, but those moments of poor judgment were increasingly rare. Besides, it wasn't as if she was missing anything important. Jackie Talbot had goaded the teacher into going over gerunds for the fourth time. Her classroom was close to the girls' lavatory near the gym and a door that opened into the locker room as well as the one in the hall. While there were rumors about the poor condition of the boys' bathrooms at Ewen, the girls' rooms were usually kept relatively tidy – a fact that Erika was grateful for.

She was mentally berating Jackie's failure to grasp the concept when she brusquely slammed the door to the restroom open. Erika almost walked past Carrie White, who was standing in front of one of the sinks fussing with her hair. Erika didn't hate Carrie, but she certainly didn't think very highly of her. She was in a number of classes with her, and on the whole found her annoying. Carrie had a habit of saying strange and sometimes offensive things, and on more than one occasion managed to completely derail productive discussions. Above all, Erika disliked Carrie's propensity for tears and melodrama. Part of her thought it was mostly done for attention, and she was thoroughly sick of it. If there was one thing Erika couldn't stand, it was immaturity and attention seeking. She didn't know exactly how old Carrie was, but she felt she was certainly old enough not to respond to every unkind word or joke with hysterics. With that said, something she couldn't quite explain made her stop.

Carrie quietly sniffled as she pulled a wooden brush through her wild strawberry blonde hair. She wasn't crying at the moment, but judging from her puffy red eyes, it was apparent she had been. For a second or two, Erika considered attempting to sneak silently to one of the stalls, but she shelved the idea and approached the bank of sinks. She ignored her bladder and stood silently for a couple of heartbeats, simply watching the other girl.

"Uh, is everything all right?" Erika asked. Part of her didn't care, or more specifically didn't want to care. Carrie-drama was the last thing she really wanted to cope with. Another, stronger, part of her was curious, and in the end that portion of her personality won out. Erika had seen Carrie cry on any number of occasions (and for all manner of reasons), but there was something inexplicable that drove her to ask how she was doing. Carrie didn't initially respond to Erika's question.

"Billy Preston put peanut butter in my hair," Carrie said softly. It was hardly a whisper and Erika was tempted to ask her to repeat it. "I-I fell asleep in study hall and he put peanut butter in my hair. I think I got most of it out. Could you check for me?"

_Billy Preston's another winner, _Erika thought sardonically as she gave Carrie's hair a cursory going over. The last thing she really wanted to do was to paw through Carrie White's hair, but she complied anyway. She couldn't see any peanut butter, but she could still faintly smell it intermingling with a light floral scent. _Hargensen's wrong. _She thought to herself._ She does wash her hair._

"It looks OK to me," Erika said. Carrie nodded without turning to look at her. She fished something out of her backpack, which was resting in the basin of the sink next to the one she was using. Shaking slightly, and still sniffling now and again, she took the cap off of a tube of Midnight Mauve Covergirl lipstick and twisted the bottom. Erika winced inwardly as Carrie applied it, and was somewhat relieved when she managed to do a fairly competent job. She inspected reflection briefly before taking something else out of her pack and deftly opened it. It took Erika a moment to recognize the flowery wrapping it came in – it wasn't the brand she used, but it was still readily identifiable.

_Please tell me that's not what I think it is. Please tell me she at least knows what that's meant for. _Erika looked on, trying hard not to convey her bewilderment and shock. _What on earth is she planning to do with a sanitary napkin? I knew I should have minded my own business. I swear, if she does something weird, I'm out of here. I don't care if I have an accident in the hallway… I'm leaving._

Carrie used the sanitary napkin to gently blot underneath her eyes and at corners of her mouth. She consulted her reflection once more and turned to Erika.

"D-do I look OK?

"_What_ _the hell are you doing_?" Erika asked, nearly dumbstruck. Carrie gave her a reproachful look. It was the same frown she gave anyone who swore around her. Erika gave an exasperated sigh.

"Sorry. What the _heck_ are you doing?"

"Wasn't I doing it right?"

Erika was about to explain exactly how _wrong_ she was doing was when something in Carrie's big brown eyes made her stop. There was a sort of questioning vulnerability visible that made Erika reconsider. She sensed that if she said the wrong thing, or laughed that Carrie would once again start to cry. Erika normally wouldn't have cared, at least very much, but now there was a nagging seed of guilt that had been planted in her. She couldn't do it. _She looks like she wants my approval…_

"Yeah," Erika said, forcing a smile. "Yes, that's exactly how you're supposed to do it. I, uh, thought you were about to do something else. You look good."

Erika kicked herself mentally. There was no way she'd buy it. Not even Carrie was _that _gullible. _Great, _Erika thought ruefully. _ Here come the tears. You could have just told her the truth and be done with it. Way to go…_

"_Thank you!" _ Carrie said, sounding more than a little relieved. Her hands were clasped over her chest. "Thank you so much!"

Carrie actually seemed happy. She smiled brightly as she placed her brush and lipstick back into her pack and tossed out the napkin. Slipping her arms through the straps of the book bag, she turned towards Erika. Carrie stood still, looking almost expectantly at her for a second or two. Those same soft, brown eyes that conveyed pain and a longing for validation a moment or two before now shone with an almost joyful relief. _She looks like she's waiting for me to give her a hug or something. I hope that's not what she has in mind._

"Um. I've got to go," Erika said awkwardly. "I've been out too long and Mr. Hodgens is gonna be pis… _angry_. See you in math class." Erika quickly turned and left the bathroom.

"See you!" Carrie called after her cheerfully.

She was still having a hard time making sense of what she saw, but figured it would probably be best if she didn't mention it to anyone. A much less responsible part of her thought it might be funny to pass this little piece of info onto Chris Hargensen or Tina Blake, but she quickly thought better of it. She didn't think too highly of Chris Hargensen either. Chris was _immature. _Besides, some secrets were just too mean to spread around. Erika hated to admit it, but what Carrie did was kind of cute in a clueless, spastic sort of way. She did manage to keep it a secret for a little more than a year when circumstances and an incident in the locker room would change things. Later Erika would be able to fit what happened that day in the ladies' room into context, and she would come to deeply regret her role in things – especially her immaturity. But for now, she had a slightly more pressing problem.

_I think I can make it. I think I can. _Erika thought to herself as she nearly dashed down the hallway, fervently hoping that the girls' restroom near the cafeteria wasn't out of order or crowded.

_Character Notes: Erika Gogan._

_ King didn't write very much about Erika (Ruth) Gogan in the novel – only a passage or two about the incident in the locker room and how Carrie misused tampons (or sanitary napkins – I personally think it would be more realistic for her to misuse a napkin). The remake combined her with Frieda Jason (sort of) and made her a student from a different school. In my writing I'm planning on keeping her as a student at Ewen and I'm going to base her appearance off of the actress from the remake (King didn't give her a physical description). I used Erika in Art Class, so for continuity's sake, I'll stick with it._

_Age: 17 (March 21__st__) _

_Appearance – Erika has a moderately athletic build, and caramel colored skin. She has dark hair and piercing, intelligent eyes. Her outfits tend towards neat and understated. She generally doesn't put much stock in fashion – in part because she's more the sporty type. She doesn't go overboard with makeup, etc. Pretty._

_Personality etc – She has a very mature and serious outlook on life, especially for a high school student. Those that don't like her say she's arrogant and stuck up. Carrie considers her "nice", but that still leaves room for a fair amount of meanness (nice is a relative term as far as Carrie goes). She occasionally slips up and participates in things she knows she shouldn't (like taunting Carrie during her period fiasco) and usually feels guilty about it afterwards. She's generally a good student and her grades are excellent. Her athletic focus tends to be on track and field. She isn't an Ultra, but she is friends with Sue Snell and winds up spending time with the others because of it. Erika tolerates Chris Hargensen – again mostly due to Sue, but thinks she's a spoiled brat and immature. She gets along with Tina Blake in part because her mother was Tina's pediatrician when she was little. She can't stand Vicky Hanscome. Erika tends to spend most of her time with other athletes and "brains" like Frieda Jason, who she's known since they were young. She usually doesn't go out of her way to pick on Carrie, but doesn't have any real sympathy for her either. Her father teaches at University of Maine – Lewiston. She loves jogging, but hates the cold. _

_She survives the prom (as per the book), but ends up injured. She eventually gets accepted into American University in Washington D.C. where she studies political science. _

_Author's Notes: Just a bonus chapter based on a paragraph from the book. Chapter 3(Innocent) and 4(Trust) are being worked on and will be up shortly (hopefully). I'm still figuring out where I want to go with this. I did this one as a "bonus" mostly because I wasn't really sure how to work it in and didn't want to forget it. Input and suggestions are always welcome._

_Trish. _


	4. Chapter 3 - Innocent

_Awakening_

_Chapter 2_

_Innocent_

_First Grade_

_Carrie White, Chris Hargensen_

_JM: Apart from the occasional scream or sob, the only thing I heard her utter was "You did this to me!"_

_WC: Were you the one she was addressing?_

_JM: No. I don't believe so. I think she was referring to all of us. At that point, we were all guilty in her eyes. All of us. I think she might have been right about that, too. I can't speak for the other faculty, but I know I could have done more. We all bear some responsibility for what happened – to our students and to her. _

_- __Excerpt from Former Ewen High Social Studies teacher Mr. James McGovern's White Commission Testimony__. _

"I want you to be a good girl," Mamma said, giving Carrie's hand a slight squeeze. "Mind your manners and listen to your teacher."

"Yes, Momma," Carrie said, sidling up a little closer to her mother. Her eyes grew large as they approached the squat, relatively unattractive two-storey building. It might not have looked like much to a passing adult – just another late 60s' federal modernist edifice - but to a little girl on her first day of First Grade it seemed monstrous. It didn't require any great degree of maternal intuition to tell Margaret that her daughter was anxious; the closer they got to the school, the tighter Carrie squeezed her hand. Barker Street Elementary was only a couple of blocks from home, and she wasn't due at Elt's Dry Cleaning until 9. She thought it would be comforting to Carrie if she were to walk with her that morning. Besides, _she_ was nervous too. It wasn't every day that you sent your only daughter out into the world – even if it was only three and half blocks away.

Margaret wasn't thrilled to be letting Carrie attend public school, but she had no other option. She was a single mother and had to work, which meant she couldn't home school her. The fact that the State of Maine seemed to deliberately set standards that she couldn't realistically meet didn't help matters, either. She had argued that she could teach Carrie everything she needed to know during slow periods at work, but those in authority disagreed. Private schools had been considered, but even with vouchers, they were far too expensive and closest one that had a curriculum that even remotely approached Margaret's standards was in Laconia, New Hampshire. If she found it difficult to let her daughter attend a local public school, shipping her off to another state and whatever cruel fate might await her was unthinkable.

_They all seem so… indecent. Just like that Horan girl. _Margaret silently groused as thousands of potential moral booby traps occupied her mind. In a dark, rarely visited part of her memory images of falling stones replayed themselves. Margaret gritted her teeth and tried not to squeeze Carrie's hand harder than necessary. It didn't help matters that red seemed to be a popular color this season._ They're all dressed like strumpets and their parents revel in it. No modesty. No decency. No virtue. How can any mother permit their _**children** _to caper about like… _Her thoughts were interrupted by a second grader running past her screaming. Carrie cringed and pressed herself up against Margaret's leg.

The walkway to the entrance was thronged with older children huddled in small groups and parents saying goodbye to their little ones. The air was filled with the sound of chaotic happiness as students dashed back and forth and called out to one another. However, some of the younger kids were reluctant to leave the safety of their parents' embrace, and one little dark haired girl in a pretty red dress was crying loudly. She was smaller than most of the other kids, and was clinging tightly to her mother. Two other girls, a blonde and another slightly taller brunette, stood close by. Every now and again, one of the girls would say something comforting or touch the sobbing girl on the shoulder.

Margaret secretly wondered how any mother could send her child out into the world wearing an immodest red dress. _I'd cry too if my mother paraded me out in public wearing something so… godless, _she thought bitterly. Her already low opinion of the Chamberlain Consolidated School District slipped several notches. Of even more concern to Margaret was the fact that Carrie had been watching the other girl cry, and might be on the verge of hysterics herself. To her credit, Carrie _didn't _cry.

"It's OK, Tina," the girl's mother said. "I know it's scary, but your friends are here, and you're really going to like school. I know you will." She cupped her daughter's face in her hands. "I'll be here to pick you up at the end of the day, so there really isn't anything to worry about. Have fun and try to be brave."

Tina nodded, wiping her eyes with the back of her arm. Her mother bent down and kissed her tenderly on the forehead and nodded towards the two other girls.

"Come _on_, Teeny!" The taller brunette grabbed Tina by the hand and led, or rather pulled, Tina up the steps and into the building. The three girls were soon out of sight.

Margaret led Carrie, who was now shuffling along reluctantly, by the hand to the entrance. The doors seemed to yawn menacingly at her. She wasn't simply nervous; she was terrified. Carrie wanted to be brave. She wanted to be a _good girl_ for Momma. It took every ounce of courage she could muster just to put one foot in front of the other. Carrie had heard about people having butterflies in their tummies and had always found it kind of funny. Now that those butterflies were in _her _tummy – and were apparently none too happy to be there – she no longer saw the humor in it. They stopped a few feet outside of the open doors and Margaret let go of Carrie's hand. She squatted down and hugged her daughter. Carrie was trembling slightly, but hugged Momma back.

"Remember where we went during orientation?" Margaret asked, gently stroking Carrie's hair. "It's room 104. Your teacher is waiting for you. I'm _proud _of you. Momma loves her little girl so!"

"I love you too, Momma," Carrie said and repeated the room number. Her mother smiled at her and softly tapped her daughter on the nose with her finger.

"I'll pick you up after school and take you back to work with me."

"Don't forget to say your prayers before lunch," Margaret said as Carrie turned and walked into the school. She adjusted the shoulder straps on her new backpack and took a deep breath. Momma had packed her backpack for her the night before, checking off items from the school supply list that was mailed out during the summer. She had also included a children's NIV Bible in case she had any free time. She knew she had everything she needed, but was still frightened. For a moment or two, she felt tears begin to well up, but she fought them back. _I'm a big girl. I'm not going to cry. Not going to cry. _

Margaret stood outside with the other parents for another moment or two, gnawing on the inside of her lower lip and wringing her hands. It was all she could do to hold off the urge to scratch herself. Her forearms were crisscrossed with countless scars and half healed gouges. She had promised herself - _vowed -_ that she _wouldn't_. She even went so far as to cut her nails especially short, just to make doubly sure that she _couldn't_ do it. Even now, in public, the temptation was almost overwhelming. She had underestimated how nervous she was, and now, once the die had been cast, her concern slammed down onto her with all of its might. Margaret had done her best to fill Carrie with _grace _and _goodness_ and to show her the proper path to follow. With little more than a click of a mouse, all of that effort was put into jeopardy. Carrie was now among the wolves – wicked, sinning wolves – and Margaret could do nothing to stop it. The faint ringing of a bell from inside of the school brought her back to the present. With trepidation, she turned and left. It was in God's hands now.

Carrie was wearing a robin's egg blue jumper with a white turtleneck underneath. It was awfully warm out to be wearing a turtleneck, but Momma insisted. _Straight is the gate _she would say, usually indicating that the discussion was over and there was to be no further debate_. _In her hair was a matching blue ribbon and she had on shiny Mary Jane flats (they weren't new, but they could _almost _pass for it). She was also wearing a brand new silver cross pendant. It was a gift from her mother for her first day of school, and Carrie absolutely loved it. Margaret had told Carrie that she had Reverend Coggins bless it for her. Every so often, she'd absentmindedly reach up and touch it, as if to make sure it was still there. It comforted her.

It didn't take too long for her to find room 104, and her teacher was standing in the hall greeting her new pupils as they arrived. She was a pretty, slightly buxom blonde woman in her early thirties with a disarming smile. She bent down and made eye contact with each student as she introduced herself.

"Hi there! I'm Mrs. Sheldon!" The teacher said cheerfully as she squinted to read the name-tag stuck to the front of Carrie's jumper. "Carrie's a pretty name! Are you a Carolyn or Caroline?"

"Carrietta," Carrie replied with a sheepish whisper. Mrs. Sheldon _seemed_ friendly, but she was still intimidated.

"Oh, that's very pretty, too! Let me show you where you'll sit." She placed a hand on Carrie's shoulder and guided her to a table where the three girls from outside were sitting. Tina, the tiny brunette in red, seemed much more composed now, and was chatting amicably with the other two children. Mrs. Sheldon introduced Carrie and made her way back to the front of the classroom.

"Hi, I'm Christine! Everybody calls me Chris, though," said the brunette that _wasn't _Tina. She was wearing a pink knit shirt and kids' designer jeans. Her wavy brown hair was kept out of her face by a pair of braided cats-eye barrettes. The only things brighter than her smile were her sharp, icy blue eyes. She placed her arm around Tina's shoulders and pulled her into something akin to a half-hug. Tina only offered token resistance and, after a heartbeat or two, returned the hug.

"This is Christina. We _all _call her Teeny!" Chris was positively beaming while Tina merely rolled her eyes. It looked as if she were used to her friend's antics and resigned to letting them play out. Tina was quite a bit smaller than Chris, and was pale - a little too pale. Her hair was done in a fishtail braid and her eyes were still puffy from crying. While Carrie could have benefited from spending a bit more time in the sun herself, there was something about Tina's complexion that seemed to indicate that she wasn't well.

"No, everyone calls me Tina. _You're _the only one who calls me Teeny," Tina said softly, a smile creeping across her lips. It was obvious that she and Chris were good friends. Carrie was envious in a vague, ill-defined sort of way.

"I'm Sue," the girl sitting next Carrie said. She was taller than Carrie and had long marigold blonde hair and soft hazel eyes. She was wearing a cute blue and green striped day dress. There was something comforting – something genuinely _kind_ in her smile that alleviated some of the stress Carrie had been feeling.

_Friends! New Friends! _Carrie thought happily to herself. _I think they like me already!_ They're _not going to move away like Estelle!_ She imagined all of the fun things they'd do together and how great it would be to grow up with such _nice_ girls. Carrie just knew they'd be friends forever.

Carrie's first day of school had started off on the right foot and things were going wonderfully. Mrs. Sheldon was kind and attentive and her classmates were all really nice – well, for the most part. There were a couple of less than kind kids in room 104. It was snack time and Chris had just opened up a bag of fruit gummies and was passing them around when a very pretty, freckled blonde approached Carrie's table.

"Hey, cry-baby! Why don't you go back to kindergarten? You aren't _mature_ enough for _grade school_!" The blonde pronounced each syllable in kindergarten as if it were a separate word. It took Carrie a moment or two to realize that the girl was addressing Tina and not her. Tina's face went red and, for a couple of seconds, it seemed as if she would cry again. Chris shot to her feet, knocking her chair over in the process, and proceeded to harangue the blonde.

"Shut up, _Jessica!" _Chris practically screamed. All of the other students turned towards the disruption and Mrs. Sheldon was in motion almost immediately. Chris, either unaware of the fact that she had attracted the teacher's attention or completely unconcerned by it, called Jessica several names that Carrie had never heard before. She had no clue what they meant, but one look at Jessica's face told her that they weren't complimentary. Tina remained seated as the byplay continued. Her expression was one of awe and affection.

"That's a _horrible_ thing to say!" Mrs. Sheldon interceded and separated the two girls. Carrie didn't catch all of the conversation that followed, but did notice Chris emphatically gesturing at Jessica and Tina. Mrs. Sheldon settled matters by giving both Chris and Jessica time outs.

The rest of the morning was pleasantly anticlimactic and Carrie had fun with her new classmates during recess. Although Carrie wasn't exactly an outdoors type of girl, she did enjoy playing – especially with other kids. Momma did occasionally take Carrie to either War Veterans' Park or Grass Plaza, but she never really had the opportunity to _play _with kids her own age. Momma wasn't really into playing. She had already formed opinions about the other girls: Tina was sensitive and gentle, Sue was smart and kind and Chris was funny and brave. Above all, Carrie thought they were _nice _and that they _liked _her. She had known them for barely half a day and already she considered them friends. They took turns pushing each other on the swings and talked about all sorts of things. Carrie wasn't familiar with everything that was discussed, and occasionally the others would giggle a little when she said something they thought was odd, but it was all in good fun and Carrie felt _happy _and _secure._

After recess, the children filed into the cafeteria for lunch. Momma had packed Carrie a cup of yogurt, a banana and a carton of Yummy Tummy Lemonade – as well as three homemade chocolate chip cookies (she had already decided that she'd give one to each of her new friends). She found a seat at the same table as Sue, Tina and Chris. The lunchroom was abuzz with the sounds of kids eating and laughing: there was a happy energy infusing everything. Carrie set her food down, checked to make sure her jumper was straight and kneeled with her eyes closed. She was a little surprised that none of the other students were praying before their meal, but Momma had told her to pray and pray she would.

. The laughter wasn't exactly instantaneous, but what it lacked in immediacy it made up for in volume. Carrie didn't suspect that the laughter was directed at her at first. It never occurred to her that what she was doing was in any way unusual, but when she opened her eyes and got up off of the floor it became clear that she was the center of attention. Countless eyes filled with derision were staring at her and Carrie suddenly felt naked. A strange combination of fear and anguish filled her tiny heart as she looked back and forth. She felt an almost physical pain as she noticed her classmates point and snickering. Somewhere out of her line of vision a stack of lunch trays clattered to the floor.

"_Freak!" _ A third grader yelled from across the room.

"Ohuh!" Carrie blinked in shock. She _had _heard the word freak before, but never had it applied to her.

"_Creepy Carrie!" _Shouted Jessica and others soon took up the chant.

"_Stop it!" _Carrie cried. "_Don't call me that! Please, stop!"_

The two lunch monitors were helpless to put a stop to the taunting and Carrie turned to her new friends for help. Sue and Tina openly gaped at her as if she had just sprouted a second head. They weren't laughing, at least not yet.

"You're _weird,_" Chris said softly. It was this statement more than any others that made Carrie cry. Forgetting her lunch and the cookies she was about to share, she ran from the cafeteria. The laughing followed her into the hall. Half-blinded by tears, she fled to the only safe place she could think of: Room 104.

Mrs. Sheldon was eating a TV dinner at her desk while absentmindedly skimming a copy of _Misery's Baby _when Carrie ran in_. _She had seen her share of upset children during the six years that she had taught, but there was an indescribable _something_ in little Carrie White's sobs that resonated with her. She put down her novel and scooped the girl up into a hug. Carrie nuzzled into her shoulder, her tiny body shook as she sniffled and wept. Mrs. Sheldon made a mental note to get her blouse dry-cleaned. She didn't blame Carrie for it – a little mucus was all in a day's work for an elementary school teacher. It took Carrie about ten minutes to calm down enough to convey what happened.

"They _laughed _at me! They were all _laughing _at me!" Carrie choked in between sobs.

The rest of the class returned from lunch shortly afterwards and Chris, Sue and Tina were taken aside and given a talking to by the teacher. Afterwards, they apologized for not being more understanding and said they felt bad for staring and laughing. Mrs. Sheldon then proceeded to lecture the class about proper lunchtime conduct and the importance of not insulting their fellow students. Sue and Tina both looked guiltily down at the desk. Chris, on the other hand, doodled on one of her notebooks with a slight grin on her face.

The rest of the day flew by, and Carrie found herself almost enjoying school once again. Almost. Something had changed, though. She would notice that, as the days went by, her classmates were starting to distance themselves from her. Her new friends still played with her at recess and shared their snacks with her, but now they whispered amongst themselves while looking furtively at her. Occasionally they giggled at her and Chris would call her Creepy Carrie. She periodically heard about birthday parties and play dates, but was seldom invited to any of them. To make matters worse, Jessica began to tease Carrie more than she teased Tina and every so often Chris would invite her to sit with them at lunch.

Momma was waiting outside for her at dismissal as promised and embraced Carrie tightly. She didn't notice Carrie's red eyes or growling stomach as they drove to Elt's Dry Cleaning and Carrie didn't tell her what had happened. She _couldn't_ tell her that she had been laughed at. She did, however, promise herself that she would never, _ever_ pray in school again.

_Character Notes: Jessica Upshaw_

_There wasn't much written about Jessica Upshaw in the novel and she didn't make an appearance in the films. She was mentioned as one of the mean girls who threw tampons at Carrie and was on the prom ballot (and might very well have won if it wasn't for Chris). It's left up in the air whether or not she died._

_Appearance – She's a tall, attractive honey-blonde with freckles (and a little acne). She's a cheerleader and has the figure to match. She has expensive taste in clothes, jewelry and makeup (funded mostly by her rich parents). Sophisticated is probably the best way to describe how she dresses. Wears contacts._

_Personality etc – Jessica starts off as a mean girl in elementary school but grows out of if (sort of). In high school she isn't so much of a bully as she is a snob. She's rich and extremely popular. She and Chris Hargensen are "frenemies". Jessica is an "Ultra", but isn't particularly close to Chris (she is friends with Vicky, though). She's more popular than Chris, which makes Chris uncomfortable. Under other circumstances, she probably wouldn't hang around with her, but decided early on in high school it was less of a hassle to get along with Chris than to feud with her. For her part, Chris thinks that she could use Jessica's popularity to bolster her own. Jessica doesn't hate Carrie per se and usually abstains from bullying her (she thinks it's beneath her), but will join in when others do – like the shower incident. She does occasionally make snide comments in class when Carrie says something weird. She's dating Frank Grier. Tina still doesn't like her. She secretly campaigned against Sue and Tommy prior to the prom. _

_Her fate is undecided at the moment…_

_Notes: King mentions the lunchtime prayer session, but doesn't go into too much detail. I thought it would be kind of interesting to explore how Chris et al met Carrie and play with the idea that maybe their attitudes took time to form. Rest assured – Chris is still a mean girl. Mrs. Sheldon isn't related to Paul Sheldon. I'm still up in the air a bit about Margaret (there's a lot from the book/DePalma film that I want to keep, but I also want to balance it out with the 2013 version). *Thanks Brainstorm for the help with it – *_

_Survival tally thus far: I'm going to try to find a happy medium between the book and films regarding who makes it or not. Some "fates" are written in stone (IE Carrie, Sue and Chris) and others are a bit more flexible (Vicky, Jessica Upshaw, Frieda Jason etc). Suggestions are always nice._

_Known survivors:_

_Sue Snell_

_Rita Desjardin_

_Erika Gogan_

_Mr. McGovern _

_Known deaths_

_Carrie and Margaret_

_Chris and Billy_

_Tommy_

_Tina Blake _

_Rhonda Simard_


	5. Chapter 4 - Angels?

_Awakening _

_Chapter 3_

_Angels_

_First Grade (May)_

_Carrie White_

"_The hardest thing about being an outcast isn't the love you don't receive. It's the love you long to give that nobody wants. After a while, it backs up into your system like stagnant water and turns toxic, poisoning your spirit."_

_- Highlighted passage from __**Please Stop Laughing at Me**__ (Jodee Blanco, 2003). The last person to check this particular book out from the Chamberlain Public Library was Carrietta White – one month prior to the massacre._

The whispering was the worst part. There was really no avoiding the whispering. People still laughed at Carrie, especially when she had the misfortune to say something the other kids thought was _weird. _One time in December, Mrs. Sheldon had read the class _The Night before Christmas_ and Carrie asked who Santa Claus was. Santa Claus was never an element of Christmas in the White Household and although Carrie knew about Saint Nicolas, she had never been exposed to the concept of a man in a red suit delivering gifts. While Momma _always _made sure Carrie had something to open on Christmas, gift giving never took center stage. No sooner had the question left her mouth than the class exploded. It took Mrs. Sheldon almost fifteen minutes to regain control and to coax a mortified, sobbing Carrie back into the classroom. It could have been pre-holiday excitement or the patent absurdity of not knowing who Santa Claus was, but in any event the outcome was the same. As bad as the laughing was, it _could _be kept in check and Mrs. Sheldon did her best to do so. There was no effective remedy to the whispering that followed. They've _always _whispered.

Carrie had almost made it through her first year at Barker Elementary, and in spite of the laughing and whispering, actually found that she enjoyed it – some of it, anyway. She adored Mrs. Sheldon, and found out that she really enjoyed arts and crafts. She had also started collecting some of the pretty or interesting rocks that she had found when the class was taken out on nature walks as part of their science curriculum. Momma was surprisingly supportive of Carrie's new interests, and in spite of her generally low opinion of public schools, offered as much encouragement as she could.

Winter transitioned into spring and summer was beginning to creep into Western Maine. Late April was pleasant and breezy: perfect recess weather. As usual, the playground and field were filled with screaming, playing children. A handful of teachers circulated about to ensure no one got hurt or wandered off. Every now and then one of the adults would shout out a warning.

"No roughhousing, Miss Gogan!" One of the monitors hollered. "Do you want a time out, Miss O'Shea?"

"Let Frieda take a turn!"

"Freddy Holt, get that finger out of your nose. You don't want to go to the nurses' office again, do you?"

Carrie was sitting on a swing, taking in the sights around her. Kids were running back and forth, and an impromptu game of dodge ball was taking place on the field not far from where she was sitting. Thankfully, it didn't occur to any of her fellow students to throw the ball at her – something she would later become accustomed to. Instead, her attention was focused on a small group of girls who she considered friends. Sue Snell, Chris Hargensen and Tina Blake were clustered together under a large poplar, just within earshot. In the years to come, Carrie would kick herself for being foolish enough to think of them as such, and their opinion of her would sour as time went by. For now, however, they were her friends – at least on good days.

"_Thank you_!" Chris squealed as she nearly crushed Sue with a hug. She had given Chris and Tina handmade friendship bracelets and both girls adored them. Chris, who was still riding a post-snack time sugar high spun around, nearly throwing the blonde off balance. "I _**love**_ it! I **LOVE **it!"

"Thanks, Sue," Tina's response was much more restrained. Smiling, the petite brunette examined her friend's handiwork. Tina's bracelet was made of alternating bands of pink and baby blue lanyard.

"Hey, Carrie! Look at what Sue made me! Isn't it _pretty?_" Chris shouted as she ran up and shoved her wrist in Carrie's face. Her bracelet was green and white. "It's a _**friendship**_bracelet! Sue gave me one 'cause we're _friends!_"

Carrie quietly agreed with Chris, and gave a half-hearted smile.

The bracelet _was_ pretty, and it was apparent that Sue had spent a great deal of time and effort on it. There was no denying that. There was also no denying the fact that Carrie's feelings were hurt. She understood that Sue had known Chris and Tina longer than her, but it was painful all the same. She would have loved to have been given a friendship bracelet, too. Out of the three girls, Carrie liked Sue the most. There was also something in the way Chris was flaunting it in front of her that bothered Carrie on a deeper, more emotional level. Beneath the typical silliness that Carrie had grown to associate with Chris was a sort of warning veiled in ridicule. _See? You're not really one of us. We're tolerating you for now. Don't count on it lasting. _An older and wiser Carrie might have picked up on the subtext behind the other girls' actions, but currently it was a bit too complicated for a first grader to piece together. For now, all Carrie could do was to conceal her disappointment as best she could. 

For her part, Sue did look uncomfortable – and she was. She tried not to stare at the strawberry blonde sitting on a gently moving swing, but it was hard not to. There was a little, nagging voice in her head saying that she should have made one for Carrie. It wouldn't have taken _that _much more time or work to throw one together, and it probably would have made Carrie's whole year. She didn't bother, though, and now she felt guilty about it. The fact that Carrie was looking at _her _with a dejected expression didn't improve her outlook at all.

"Um, I would have made one for you, too," Sue said, her voice trembling slightly. "Tina and Chris brought me back souvenirs from when they went away over the break."

"It's okay, Sue. I-I understand." Carrie didn't sound quite as disappointed as she looked. Sue didn't realize it at the time, but her words had given Carrie an idea. It was a good one, too. She'd need Momma's help, but she was certain it would work_. _She was absolutely positive it would.

Carrie explained her plan in somewhat vague terms to her mother after school. Margaret was skeptical. She had heard bits and pieces about her daughter's trio of would-be friends during that year's parent-teacher conferences and wasn't particularly impressed. She thought they were collectively a bad influence on Carrie, and she felt that her daughter didn't need acquaintances like them. _Godless and disrespectful, _Margaret thought_. _There was also the fact that she had to console Carrie after school with unsettling frequency. Although she never came right out and said so, Margaret suspected that they played a role in upsetting her. In spite of her apprehension and distrust of Carrie's classmates, she agreed to help. In the end, her desire to teach her daughter how to sew won out. Sewing was a _godly_ and _virtuous_ hobby, and once Carrie became skilled enough, she could lend a hand with extra orders from Elt's.

Carrie searched through Momma's books for a suitable pattern and set to work. It would probably take the better part of the weekend, but she was willing and Momma didn't mind helping. As is turned out, Momma did do the bulk of the work. Carrie was too young to use the sharp shears and some of the sewing was too complex for her to tackle at this stage. Margaret did let her take over occasionally, and she taught Carrie some of the basic techniques on their old Singer machine. Leaning over her, her hands would gently guide her daughter's as they maneuvered the fabric. Every now and then a lock of Margaret's red hair would slip out of place and tickle Carrie's nose and cheek. She seemed to have inherited some of her talent, and with more than a little pride, Margaret thought she'd be a _wonderful _seamstress one day.

By Saturday evening, their efforts began to take a recognizable shape. Together, Margaret and Carrie had stitched and sewed and stuffed three angel dolls. Each was roughly the size of Margaret's hand and had white wings and pale blue robes. They were more or less identical, save for the color of the fabric used for their hair and the thread used to make their eyes. Two of the dolls were brunettes (one had light brown hair and dark eyes and the other had dark brown hair and blue eyes) and one had yellow hair. It didn't require a leap of imagination to see who the dolls were made to represent, but just to be on the safe side Margaret embroidered each girl's initials between the doll's wings. Carrie tucked the angels into her backpack, anxious to see how her friends would react to their gifts.

Carrie barely slept at all Sunday night and she once again had butterflies in her tummy as she walked to school. She hoped that Sue, Tina and Chris liked what she and Momma had made for them. They had worked v_ery _hard and Carrie thought they turned out well. In fact, she thought they were adorable. Possibilities swam through Carrie's mind as she imagined her friends' faces lighting up when they see what she had for them. _They'll _love _them and they'll like me! No more whispering! No more being left out! _

When Carrie entered Room 104 she immediately saw Chris, Sue and Tina whispering and giggling conspiratorially together. They didn't seem to notice her as she approached. She couldn't quite make out what they were saying to one another, but she was fairly certain she heard the phrase _Creepy Carrie _uttered by one of them_. _Suddenly all of the ideas about gift-giving and reciprocating friendship evaporated. _I can't give them the dolls now! They'd probably just laugh at them – and at me. There's no way anyone would want stupid stuffed angels, especially ones made by Creepy Carrie. How could I be so dumb? What am I going to tell Momma?_

"What's up?" Tina asked mildly, her head tilted slightly to one side. Sue and Chris turned towards her as Carrie struggled and failed to come up with a cover story. She muttered something quietly and sat down.

"You're weird sometimes," Chris said smiling. Sue and Tina snickered. A cup of tepid tea that was sitting on Mrs. Sheldon's desk tipped over, spilling its sticky contents on her attendance book.

"Oh SH – Sugar!" Mrs. Sheldon barely managed to catch herself. One of her cardinal rules was to never swear in front of children. "Frieda, can you run to the girl's room and get me some paper towels for me?"

The day dragged by and Carrie never mentioned the angels to anyone. She later lied to her mother when she was asked about them. She knew it was a huge risk to lie to Momma, but she couldn't bear the thought of telling her that the gifts they had worked so hard on together never made it to their intended recipients. After school, she snuck down to the basement and hid them behind some of the boxes containing Daddy Ralph's things. The dolls would remain there undisturbed until one late spring night years later when the White bungalow – along with much of Chamberlain – was razed to the ground. 

_Author's Notes: Thanks for taking the time to read my "stuff" and thanks for the feedback! I appreciate it!_

_Just a short piece about Carrie's attempts at friend-making. I've always been kind of curious about how bullying starts and what happened to set Chris et al against Carrie. The next two (Trust and Momma) should be up shortly. _

_Please Stop Laughing at Me by Jodee Blanco is real and the quote belongs to her. No infringement intended. It's actually a really dark read (she had it almost as bad as Carrie did). I had to read it for class, and although there is some debate about whether or not there was any artistic license used, I thought it was thought-provoking. It's worth a read._

_Character Notes:_ _Christina "Tina" Blake_

_Age: 17 (January 11__th__)_

_**Canon**__: Tina didn't play a particularly large role in the novel. She helped Chris a bit with the prank and did pick on Carrie in the locker room. King describes her as a petite, pretty red-head and she wasn't particularly mean (at least not compared to the other versions of her). She plays a much larger role in the films. Her fate in the book is different than that of the films. _

_**Appearance**__: _ _Tina is tall and a little too thin. She has long, straight dark brown hair and brown eyes. She has pale skin and is very fashionable. Tina typically wears subtle make-up and usually has medium length nails and she likes nail art. Her ears are double pierced and she loves jewelry (especially charm bracelets)._

_**Personality etc**__.: She's a member of the Ultras and is kind and loyal to her friends (especially Chris). Tina is tactile and affectionate to those she cares about, but can be very catty and mean to those she doesn't. She used to be quiet and shy, but eventually came out of her shell (she's still more reserved than Chris or Donna). Now she's quite flirtatious. She's outgoing in class and inquisitive. Tina is very perceptive and has a knack for reading people and is somewhat vindictive and manipulative. She really doesn't like being upset or frightened. Hates scary stuff and has a phobia about fire (her family had a minor house fire when she was young and she's still frightened about it). Sees something of Carrie in herself (which is one reason why she bullies her). Unlike some of the other Ultras, she is willing to pick on Carrie even when Chris isn't around. She still holds a bit of a grudge against Jessica Upshaw from the teasing she inflicted on her during elementary school. Loves animals. She occasionally participates in school activities/functions (such as prom) and gets good grades. She sometimes helps out with the NHS. _

_**Background and Family **__Tina has an older brother, Henry, and she generally gets along well with her family. Her father works for an insurance firm and her mother is a dentist. Her mother was in a bad car accident when Tina was in elementary school. When she was little, she was nicknamed Tiny Tina by her dad – corrupted into Teeny (Chris and the other Ultras still call her this). Tina was often sick as a child and was quite a bit smaller than her peers (she had some sort of heart ailment). She was bullied by other kids when she was young and learned early on that popularity means power. She became friends with Chris at a young age. Chris is very protective of her. The Hargensens and Blakes are very close. Chris, Tina and Sue dedicated candles to each other at their sweet 16s. She collects dolls, loves Harry Potter and has a pet bunny. Mr. Fromm's English Composition and Poetry/Prose are her favorite subjects. She has Mr. Ullman (her Senior year P/P teacher) wrapped around her finger. Mr. Blake was seriously injured when he raced to Ewen High during the disaster. ___


	6. Bonus 2 - Be Mine?

_Awakening_

_Bonus: Be Mine?_

_Senior Year, February_

_Carrie White, Tommy Ross_

"_Darling, you know I'll love you 'til the end of time…"_

_- Lyrics from a song Susan Snell copied as part of a note to Tommy Ross. The note was found by Maine State Police in his car during recovery efforts after the disaster…_

It was a bitterly cold, miserable February morning in Maine. This winter seemed especially harsh, and in the early gloom the world felt barren. Even bundled up in her heavy winter coat, Carrie couldn't seem to warm up. I didn't help matters that the heater in Momma's car wasn't working as well as it could. In spite of this, she still jumped at the offer of a ride to school and was grateful when she entered the relative warmth of Ewen High.

Valentine's Day was right around the corner and the decorations were already up in the halls. Like most of the holidays that fell during the school year, Valentine's Day was usually heralded by a series of fundraisers. Because Ewen was a public school, funding was always an issue and the easiest way for clubs to make money for their activities was through fundraisers. These usually took the form of themed bake sales, but during the run up to Valentine's Day the student council decided that roses and candy would be a hit. They were right; each year the Ewen student body willingly shelled out two dollars per rose and a buck fifty for a bag of mixed candy. Those lucky enough to have significant others waited with baited breath to see if they'd get a rose. The more popular students would usually receive dozens of flowers and little cellophane baggies of sweets while those unfortunate souls who weren't popular got ignored. Carrie had no illusions about where she fell on that spectrum – and she typically tried her level best to ignore it. She passed by the decorated lockers and signs begging people to buy flowers without looking, but something felt different that morning.

"_**The power of Christ compels you**_!" Kenny Garson howled as he slapped Carrie's books out of her hands. Carrie's faith was a constant source of amusement for Kenny and his friends.

Her binder exploded on contact with the faux-marble floor. In a blink of an eye, her papers were spread across the hallway. Sighing, she quietly set about gathering her errant loose leaf, hoping that she could retrieve most of it before her less than thoughtful classmates trod on something important. The fact that Kenny had done this was not particularly unusual in of itself – something similar typically happened to her a couple of times a month. What was different was that someone stopped to help her.

Tommy Ross was tall and incredibly handsome. He had heart melting smile and kind eyes that conveyed both intelligence and gentleness. It would be an understatement to say that Carrie had a crush on him. He was her Prince Charming. She had even sketched him occasionally and would often daydream about him holding her tenderly in his strong arms and whispering kind words in her ear. Carrie had watched him from afar for the past couple of years, never being able to work up the courage to approach him. She knew that someone like Tommy would probably never be interested in someone like her, but suspecting that fact and finding out for certain were two different things. Part of her felt as if she would shatter into a million pieces if he were to actually reject her out right. Because of this, Carrie tried to keep her distance. Besides, Tommy seemed interested in Sue Snell and she knew there was no way to compete with someone as beautiful and smart as Sue. Carrie and Tommy did share a couple of classes together and every so often he'd hold the door for her or would give her one of those smiles. Carrie's heart raced and she trembled whenever he was near.

That was exactly what was happening when Tommy stopped to lend her a hand. Without a word, he was stooping beside her, collecting the various sheets and dittos that had fallen out of her three-ringed binder.

"Here you go. I think that's all of them," he said as he returned Carrie's papers to her.

Carrie wanted to thank him, but her mouth was suddenly dry and she wasn't able to form audible words. She mouthed a thank you, clutching her schoolwork to her chest. She wasn't expecting Tommy to touch her, and she flinched when he placed his hand on her shoulder. It wasn't a particularly intimate gesture – nothing more than a gentle, reassuring pat. Carrie blushed and her heart, scarred as it was from years of loneliness and constantly being mistreated by others, seemed to swell in her chest. She made a conscious effort to look him the eyes and smile. She wanted to say more, to do something kind in return, but Tommy walked away before she had the opportunity.

"_Sugar_!" Carrie muttered softly to herself as she watched him go. _I could have at least tried to say thank you out loud. _

Later on in the day Carrie was about to pass by one of the National Honor Society flower tables when she stopped dead in her tracks. She wasn't terribly surprised to see Tommy buying flowers and chatting with Cindy Yang. It did, however, give her an idea. It was risky, and would probably end in tears and humiliation, but she had to at least try. She did what she could to blend into the crowd and waited for him to move on. Carrie closed her eyes and took several deep breaths. _They're going to laugh at me, _she thought morosely to herself._ I know they are. I have to do this. I have to do something nice for Tommy. _Biting the inside of her cheek, Carrie cautiously approached the table.

"Ohuh, um. Hi, Cindy," Carrie said in almost a whisper. Cindy Yang and Emma Swift looked up from their conversation. Ignoring their collective look of incredulity, she plunged on. "I was wondering if I could send someone a flower anonymously."

"_Really?"_ Cindy leaned forward, suddenly interested. "Since you're wondering about anonymity you obviously aren't thinking about sending one to yourself, are you? Who's the lucky guy?"

"Or girl?" Emma quipped. Noticing that Carrie was blushing and backing away she hastened to add: "You _are _going to have to tell us. We _need _to know _who _to send it to."

"I want to send a white rose to Tommy Ross in homeroom 224!" She blurted it out as if it were a single word. Cindy and Emma were both struggling to contain their laughter but readily accepted Carrie's money. They promised her that Tommy wouldn't find out she had sent him a white rose and she sincerely hoped they were being honest. In any event, it was too late to take it back. For the rest of the day, Carrie fretted about whether or not she had made a mistake. At the end of school, she found herself looking forlornly at Tommy as he retrieved his books from his locker.

"What are you staring at, freak?" Vicky Hanscome hissed at her. Carrie hadn't noticed Vicky and Chris approach.

"Are you stalking him? Tina saw you buying a flower. Is it for him?" Chris asked, grinning. Her smile looked absolutely predatory. "Wow. That's really _creepy - _even for you."

_Tina saw me? Oh no! _Carrie's stomach clenched. _Not good. Nope: not good at all._

"I-I am not!" Carrie stammered. It wasn't that she particularly cared what Chris thought of her, but the possibility of her telling Tommy that she had bought him a flower terrified her. She could feel her face go red. _What if she tells him? What if she tells Sue? Ohuh, I think I'm going to be ill._

"Yeah, whatever," Chris said while she casually examined her sculpted gel nails. "You do realize the only reason he's nice to you is because he pities you, right? He doesn't like you. In fact, he laughs at you just like everyone else."

"Yeah, he thinks you're nasty," Vicky added. "Your acne makes him physically ill."

Carrie turned and left without responding to them, their laughter trailing behind her as she brushed past Miss Desjardin and quickly walked away. Their words hurt, but the worst part of it was that there was probably a kernel of truth in what they were saying. Tommy probably didn't like her and was simply being nice to her because it was in his nature to do so. _I'm such an idiot. I should have known better. It's too late now._ During the next two days Carrie tried and failed to put Tommy and roses out of her mind. She couldn't help but think that she had made a huge mistake. The problem was that she wasn't in Tommy's homeroom and wouldn't know right away whether or not her name was on the card attached to the rose. In any event, Valentine's Day had arrived.

Valentine's Day was never a particularly happy occasion for Carrie. It wasn't that she hated it; rather she thought of it in much the same way one would think of a dentist appointment or a homework assignment - mildly unpleasant but completely unavoidable. At home, the holiday was marked by marathon prayer seasons – which always seemed to focus on the darker, more wrath-filled sections of the Bible. Carrie preferred to focus on the positive passages instead, but Momma _always_ had the last word. At school, she had to cope with an over abundance of affection that seemed almost unbearable. Carrie didn't begrudge people expressing love (or as close as hormonal teenagers can come to love) towards each other. She simply wished that they could perhaps put a little more effort into being kinder towards everyone in general.

Carrie had long since moved past being upset by being excluded on Valentine's Day. When she was attending Barker Street Elementary the students were encouraged to pass out valentine's cards to their classmates. There had been a rule stating that anyone who did so had to have enough cards for everyone in the class. Somehow they always seemed to forget Carrie and her teachers would rarely say anything about it. She would sit at her desk, crying quietly while her classmates laughed and joked amongst themselves. Now she simply tried to shut it out of her mind – at least that was the plan. Tina had seen her buy a rose and soon the whole school would probably find out. So much for ignoring it.

The hallways were decorated with paper hearts and cupids and several of the more festive-minded girls were wearing pink and read. Some of the couples were exchanging cards and hugging. Carrie had absolutely no expectation of getting so much as a "Happy Valentine's Day" from her classmates, let alone a rose or candy. _Don't look at them, _she thought to herself as she unlocked her locker. _Just keep your head down and get through today._ Further down the hall, Chris Hargensen was laughing with Tina and the Twins. They all seemed so cheerful, and although Carrie couldn't hear what they were talking about, she'd wager a week's allowance that it was romantic in nature. She was about to open her locker when she noticed a something sticking out of the vent at the top.

"Ohuh?" Carrie was taken aback. It was a red heart cut out of a piece of folded construction paper. Someone had used a decorative hole-puncher to make a lace-like pattern around the edges. It had to be a trick, some sort of joke. The initial surprise had worn off and, with a resigned sigh, she opened the card. In neat, feminine cursive someone had written:

_Roses are red_

_ Violets are blue_

_ You eat shit_

_ And Momma does too!_

"Hey Carrie! Will you be mine?" Chris said, attempting to stifle her laughter. She had quietly walked over while Carrie was reading. Chris was wearing a clingy red turtleneck and her dark, wavy hair was pulled into a loose ponytail. Her icy blue eyes shone brightly as she beamed. She was seemed to be exceedingly proud of her poem. Tina pantomimed blowing Carrie a kiss. Carrie was less than impressed. It was hardly the most hurtful thing Chris and her clique have said or done to her. That being said, it always bothered her when they involved her mother in one of their jokes. She calmly took the books she needed for her first couple of classes out of her locker and trudged off towards homeroom. _Just ignore the Ultras and they'll get bored and move on. Just ignore them._ Carrie suspected it was going to be a long day.

Norma Watson and Jessica Upshaw were standing by the homeroom teacher's desk, chattering excitedly as they arranged the mound of red, pink and white roses. Carrie was more interested in the cardboard box containing pretty cellophane bags full of candy – she had a sweet tooth and nothing quite seemed to ease the pain of a rough day like some chocolate. It didn't matter, though. She knew no one bought her any, and in spite of things she still had enough pride in herself not to stoop to sending any to herself. She took her seat and began to draw absentmindedly in her notebook as Norma and Jessica buzzed around the room handing out flowers.

"Here you go, Carrie!" Norma said cheerfully as she set down three pink roses and a bag of candy on the desk in front of her. Carrie looked up in disbelief. "I _know_! I'm surprised, too! "

"How cute!" Jessica crooned. "See? There's hope for everyone!"

The twins, Nikki and Lizzi Wilson, looked up from their own pile of flowers and stared at her in shock. Carrie only caught part of what Nikki muttered, but she knew it was far from complimentary. Carrie was dumbstruck. It had to be a joke, right? Who would have sent _her_ flowers and candy? She shut her eyes tightly and counted to three. _I'm imagining things. They'll be gone when I open my eyes and things will be back to normal._

When she opened her eyes again, the flowers were still there. They were very pretty.

"Why?" Carrie stammered. She was blushing and her stomach seemed to trying to turn itself inside out. "Who sent them to me?"

"Oh, I know who. But I'm not gonna tell you," Norma said conspiratorially. She tended to move her hands a great deal when she spoke, and her square tipped pink nails caught the light as she did so. "_They _told me not to. But I can assure you that it isn't a joke. They just thought it would be nice to see you smile for once."

_Tommy? Maybe he did find out and wanted to reciprocate? _Carrie thought. Her heart thudded in her chest and seemed to be on the verge of bursting free. _It couldn't be him, could it? Norma said "they". Could it be more than one person? _

Carrie heard Lizzi mumble something about how she must have sent them to herself. She didn't care, though. She unwrapped a piece of heart shaped milk chocolate and popped it into her mouth. Maybe this Valentine's Day wouldn't be so bad after all.

She _was _smiling.

_**Author's Note:**__ The next couple are going to be dark and downbeat, so I figured I'd do a lighter one to balance things out. I'm not very good at happy endings or upbeat fiction, but I felt that the last couple of chapters were heavy on the Carrie-abuse. It's probably going to be a dark series on the whole. I'm thinking of doing a bonus every couple of chapters – one on the Ultras will probably be next and I'm working on one about Freddy "the Beak" Holt. Trust will be the next regular one and will introduce Donna Kellogg._

_The lyrics in the beginning were taken from the song Memories by Within Temptation. No infringement intended etc. It's a sad song, but beautiful in its own right. _

_Emma Swift was made up and Cindy (no last name given) was mentioned once by name in the book during the locker room scene. King didn't write anything about her. I gave her the last name Yang. _

_**Character Notes: **__ Victoria "Vicky" Hanscome_

_Canon: Not much is written about her. She only gets mentioned once by King, but apparently has really nice legs. No mention is made of whether or not she's a mean girl. _

_**Appearance**__: Vicky is an attractive girl with a dancer's body. She's deceptively strong and has great legs. She's a natural redhead with pale skin and sapphire blue eyes (darker than Chris's). She has some freckles and a little acne (she's self-conscious about it). Had braces. Fashionable, but sometimes tends to go overboard. Wears a little too much make-up and her nails are typically short (cheerleading and long nails don't mix). Vicky is often seen wearing school colors and the ECHS cheer squad uniform. Has a small tattoo on her ankle. She has beautiful lips and is often ranked among the top 10 "hottest" at Ewen. _

_**Personality Etc**__: She's and Ultra and a Cheerleader. Chris calls her Red sometimes. Vicky is aggressive in just about everything she does and is very competitive. She isn't a genus, but isn't a bonehead either. Jealous. She tends to be a "hands-on" bully (which is unusual for girl bullies). Has very low self-esteem. She's very loyal to friends and empathetic, but can be overbearing. Vicky views Chris as her number one BFF (Chris likes Vicky a lot – but doesn't think of her in the same way). She met Chris et al in 6__th__ grade. Loves hugging (but doesn't quite know her own strength). Tends to get angry rather than cry or talk about her problems. She has major unresolved issues. She and Sue don't exactly get along. She had an unhappy childhood (her mother died when she was young – she was killed by a drunk driver). Her father runs a book store and is genuinely kind. Has an older brother in the military and worries about him all the time (he also is known for being kind and giving). Blames herself for her brother entering the service and putting himself at risk (if she hadn't been born, money might not have been an issue and he might have gone to college instead). She lives near Carrie (on Cedar Street – two blocks away from Carlin) and started bullying her as a way to fit in with Chris and Donna's clique. She isn't really sure why she dislikes Carrie, but part of it might be because of her own insecurity. She's been trying to fill the void Donna left when she moved. She's a terrible driver, but is very good at science and math (when she bothers to study). Her father survived the Chamberlain Disaster, but their home burned down. The odds are NOT in Vicky's favor._


	7. Chapter 5 - Trust?

_Awakening_

_Chapter 5_

_Trust?_

_Elementary School (Summer)_

_Carrie White, Chris Hargensen, Donna Kellogg_

_March 10__th__, 201-: Not having a good day. I know I don't belong here. I know people don't like me. I can't blame them – I don't like myself very much, either. Sometimes I wish people would just give me a chance, but then I realize that there really isn't anything I can do at this point to change their minds. I wish I knew where I could fit in. I wish there was some place where I was accepted. It hurts. It hurts to be alone. _

_- Excerpt scanned from Carrietta White's diary (retrieved from Nicole "Nikki" Wilson's laptop following the disaster). _

Carrie had heard about Pine Tree Summer Camp in Motton two weeks earlier, when she was finishing up First Grade. Frieda Jason had gone on and on about how great it was and how they had horses and a wonderful swimming pool. Carrie had never gone swimming before, and was immediately taken with the idea. It sounded like so much fun, and there was also the possibility of making new friends (or at least finally win over a certain trio of girls). Carrie's efforts the previous year hadn't exactly paid off in that regard, but things might be different this time. She already knew that Sue, Tina and Chris were going, and although she wasn't really sure how they viewed her – or whether they really were friends or not – she felt she simply had to attend as well. As soon as she was able to, Carrie told her mother all about it and how badly she wanted to sign up. Momma had said no almost as quickly and had thought that was the end of it. She was mistaken.

"_Momma, please!"_

"_**No!**_ For the hundredth time, no!" Margaret practically growled at her daughter. She was busy working on alterations for a bridal party and was behind schedule. It didn't help matters that the dresses she was altering were made out of some sort of horrid synthetic material that was difficult to work with, or that several of the bridesmaids had waited to the last possible moment to come in to be measured. Even more galling was the fact that they were incredibly immodest and really quite hideous. Margaret was half tempted to leave a pin or two in just to spite them, but her sense of professionalism wouldn't allow her to do so. The possibility of having angry customers and Elt, her boss, breathing down her neck was enough to make her frazzled.

The last thing in the world she wanted to deal with was Carrie having an ongoing temper tantrum. She had patiently explained to Carrie why she had said no; about how sinful it was and how good, virtuous girls didn't partake in swimming and running around with poorly parented brats. As far as she was concerned, summer camp was an even worse abomination than public school. Her efforts didn't seem to make an impression, and Carrie was still just as determined. Margaret had never seen such _willfulness _from her daughter, and had come within a hair's breadth of banishing her to the closet on at least two occasions.

For her part, Carrie had almost continuously begged, pleaded and cried to no avail. Well, mostly to no avail. Momma _was_ growing increasingly irritated – almost to the point of being angry. She understood in a simple, child's way, that she was walking a thin line. If she pushed too far, she knew Momma would dig in and never let her go. If she didn't push far enough, Momma might not grasp how badly she wanted this. She wasn't actively trying to manipulate her mother, but she thought that the best way to get her to change her mind was to make her realize how important summer camp was to her. She was sitting across from Margaret at the dinner table, silently pushing vegetables around on her plate while trying to work up the courage to make one last appeal. She knew her mother's patience, such as it was, was already wearing thin and she would probably wind up in trouble.

What Carrie wasn't aware of was the fact that Momma _had_ changed her mind. She still hated the idea of her daughter being left to the mercy of godless teenaged counselors and despised summer camp in general, but it occurred to her that this could serve as a teaching opportunity. It wasn't that Margaret _wanted _her daughter – her little girl – to get hurt, but sometimes the only way to make an impression on the willful was through a little pain.

"Momma, I…"

"Fine. You can go," Margaret said, interrupting her. Carrie was stunned into silence, but only for a moment or two. She nearly knocked her chair over as she got up and gave her mother the biggest hug she could muster.

"_Thank you, Momma! I love you! __**Thank you!**_" Carrie gushed.

"It's expensive, so I'm going to have to cut back your allowance during the summer," Margaret said softy as she stroked her daughter's hair. "And you are _not_ allowed to go swimming. Do you understand?"

Carrie nodded and hugged Momma even harder. She was going to summer camp!

In hindsight, things perhaps would have been better for Carrie if her mother had stuck to her guns. Things started off innocently enough, and for the most part, Carrie did have a good time. Chris, Sue and Tina were being nice to her, and they introduced her to Donna Kellogg. Carrie had seen her around school, but had never spoken to her before. The only thing that really troubled her, aside from the occasional rude comments from other campers, was the fact that she couldn't go swimming. She didn't have a bathing suit, and wasn't about to risk Momma's wrath by asking for one. For the first couple of days, Carrie sat by the pool and chatted with Tina. Tina had and ear infection and had to stay out of the water for a couple of weeks. After the third day of watching her mope, Sue offered to bring a spare bathing suit for her. Sue and Carrie were roughly the same size and even if it didn't fit quite as well as it could, it would give her a chance to join in. Had Sue not been soaking wet at the time, Carrie would have hugged her.

Carrie spent that evening planning and fretting about whether or not Sue would keep her word. The camp provided towels, so she didn't have to worry about trying to sneak one out of the house - which was a relief. Momma was very perceptive. She would change at camp like the other girls, and stow her wet bathing suit in a plastic shopping bag until she could find a place to for it to dry at home. The only catch was that she had to keep it a secret from her mother. Carrie didn't like to lie and she wasn't very good at it. Thankfully, Momma didn't ask too many questions about how her day went. Momma still wasn't very happy with the idea of Carrie attending camp, and didn't really want to discuss it in depth. Sue kept her promise, and Carrie had a new forest green one-piece swimsuit to wear. She was elated to be able to go in the pool and thoroughly enjoyed her first couple of sessions. Her joy didn't last long, and a couple of days later she regretted ever hearing about camp.

"Do you trust me?" Chris Hargensen asked in a stage whisper. The sounds of happy children playing and splashing forced her to speak more loudly than she intended. It wasn't that she was planning on _hurting _Carrie. It was just going to be a joke; but that didn't mean she wanted to get into trouble either.

"Ohuh. Um, yes. I trust you," Carrie didn't sound convincing and truth be told, she _didn't_ entirely trust her. Chris had sworn that this was how she had learned to duck her head underwater, and that Sue and Donna had done it, too.

Carrie was in the middle of an impromptu triangle in the shallow end of Pine Tree Summer Camp's swimming pool. It wasn't her first time swimming and she had several lessons under her belt that summer, but she was still new enough to be nervous. She did have a fair amount of latent talent, and had taken to it swimmingly. With that said, she still hadn't been able to put her head underwater. Chris and Sue Snell were both able to swim underwater. Sue was even able to open her eyes while doing so. Carrie wanted to be able to keep up with them and was determined to be able to swim just as well as her classmates.

"Okay! Take a deep breath and hold your nose. When I count to three I'm going to push your head under and let go," Chris said. "Try to open your eyes."

She did as she was told and Chris gently pushed her head under water. Chris kept her word and released her. Carrie was not only able to stay under for a couple of seconds before surfacing, but she had opened her eyes as well! She had done it!

"My turn!" said Donna Kellogg. Donna also attended Barker Elementary, but wasn't in Mrs. Sheldon's class. She was taller than Carrie and was able to leverage herself above her and force her under. Like Chris, she also let go – but not right away. Carrie flailed a bit as she burst above the azure surface. She _was_ laughing, but it was a fragile, unhappy sort of laugh – one that wasn't too far removed from a sob.

"Don't do that! I can stay under by myself now," Carrie said smiling. The other girls were fond of playing jokes on her and this seemed to be just another one in their repertoire. Chris and Donna were almost in hysterics.

"Maybe we should stop," Sue said, chuckling nervously. Ducking and splashing was fun and all, but Carrie looked like she was starting to get scared. Chris either didn't hear what Sue said, or chose to disregard it. She latched on to Carrie's shoulders and pushed down once again. This time she didn't give Carrie any warning, and she wasn't able to inhale before going under. When she yet again surfaced, she was no longer laughing.

"S-stop! Please stop!" Carrie wailed. She was no longer having fun and was about to say so when she was ducked under once again. An unbearable sense of terror gripped Carrie as her lungs ached and the blood pounded in her head. Part of her sincerely believed she was going to die. She fought back this time; flailing, scratching and kicking at Donna until she was released. She began to scream as soon as she broke the surface.

Tina had been sitting and placidly reading when a piercing shriek startled her. A couple of months earlier her brother Henry had picked up her pet rabbit the wrong way, causing it to squeal shrilly. The scream she had just heard sounded almost exactly like that, only louder and more anguished. All of the activity in the pool ceased almost instantaneously. It wasn't until the noise repeated itself that Tina realized that Carrie was the source of it. Chris said something Tina couldn't hear and tentatively approached Carrie, eliciting yet another shriek – one that was cut short by the even shriller sound of a lifeguard's whistle.

Chris and Donna were taken aback by Carrie's reaction. It was just supposed to be a joke after all, and they hadn't really meant to scare her. They were still staring, their mouths agape, when one of the lifeguards ordered them and Sue Snell out of the pool. They were in trouble and they knew it. Two other adults were trying to coax Carrie out as well, but she remained stark still with her eyes closed and hands clamped to the sides of her head. None of the adults or children nearby noticed the strange, concentric ripples on the surface of the water that seemed to emanate from her. A few witnesses did feel something vaguely unpleasant – something not too different from the queasiness you'd experience by standing too close to a speaker with the bass turned all the way up.

The counselors and lifeguards eventually managed to get Carrie out of the pool, and whisked her away to the nurse's office. It took almost fifteen minutes to calm her down enough to get her side of the story and the decision was made to call her mother. Carrie suspected that Momma would be angry with her, but she was so frightened and so hurt at that point she didn't really care. She wanted her mother: _needed _her mother.

_You asked me to trust you and I did! _ She thought bitterly. Like most kids her age, Carrie wasn't really familiar with the concept of betrayal, but the bitter pain that went hand in hand with it was now etched onto her heart. _Why did you do that to me? _ _What did I ever do to you? I liked you! I wanted to be your friend!_

Margaret left work and rushed to Motton, driving perhaps a bit faster than she should have. She _was_ angry, but she also knew her daughter needed her. The matter of Carrie's willful disobedience could and would be dealt with later. Upon her arrival Margaret engaged in a short and very heated discussion with the camp director during which she made it clear in no uncertain terms that Carrie would not be returning and that a refund was in order. After reaching an agreement that was less than satisfactory to both parties, she collected her daughter and together they drove home.

"Straight is the gate," Margaret said. "I forbade you from going swimming and you did so anyway. God is not mocked, and I am _not _to be disobeyed. You know better than that. Consider this a learning opportunity, Carrietta. Cherish it."

Carrie didn't resist when her mother practically dragged her to the closet when they returned home. She didn't have the energy or emotional wherewithal to do so. As much as she disliked the closet and the terrible images of demons and God's wrath found within, she was simply too drained to do anything to stop it. Even more distressing than the iconography she was shut in with were the feelings swimming around inside of her – especially the dull, bitter ache that she would one day come to associate with hate. Carrie had heard her classmates throw the term hate around from time to time, but never thought she'd actually _feel _hate towards anyone. She did and it frightened her almost as much as what Chris and Donna had done. One of the most important lesions she had taken away from reading her Children's Bible was the importance of forgiveness. She didn't want to hate, but found it difficult not to. She alternated between praying and napping and soon lost track of time. Six hours later Momma relented and let her out.

"Momma, I'm sorry," Carrie said softly.

"Shh. It's alright. I forgive you. Momma forgave you right away." Margaret knelt down and hugged her tightly, brushing a stray lock of strawberry blonde hair away from her face. Carrie noticed a couple of thin scratch marks on her mother's cheek. They hadn't been there when she picked her up from camp.

"Do you understand now? You see, Momma is always right about these things. What happened at camp with those _horrid _children was God's way of reminding you. You need to trust me when I tell you not to do something. No more backsliding."

"I-I trust you, Momma. I love you."

_Notes: This chapter was loosely based on an incident mentioned in the novel. I did take some artistic license with it. King wasn't specific about how old Carrie was when it happened. It was implied that she was at least old enough to be taking in laundry for money, but that didn't seem quite right (a Carrie that's old enough to earn cash on her own probably wouldn't have put herself into that sort of situation). I also found it kind of strange that Margaret would be willing (albeit under duress) to let Carrie go to sleep away camp – even a faith-based one. Because of this, I bumped it forward in the timeline and changed it to a day camp (which Margaret would probably still be opposed to – but perhaps a little less). There was also no mention of who ducked Carrie – so I thought I'd pin it on Chris. _

_Donna Kellogg will probably get fleshed out a bit more as I go. Again, King didn't really write anything about her other than the fact that she was probably Chris' closest friend. Because of that, I'm guessing she isn't a particularly nice person. She also manages to miss out on the prom (she doesn't get off scot free, but she does get a happier ending than Chris et al)._

_As for Margaret, I'm probably going to err a bit more closely to the 2013 version (with some major elements from the book etc). Moore's version seemed to have a bit more depth of character and that tends to open it up to more possibilities._

_Next up is Momma and three bonus chapters (Ultras, another one that's Chris-centric, and Misfits – which will probably have something to do with Freddy Holt)._

_**Character Notes: **__Donna Kellogg_

_**Canon: **__Not much was written about her in the novel and she was only mentioned once in passing in the 2002 Remake. In both cases she's said to a close friend of Chris Hargensen who moved to Rhode Island. They still communicate with each other._

_**Age: 17 **__(October 5__th__)_

_**Appearance: **__Cute, but not quite as pretty as some of the other Ultras. She was tall for her age when she was young, but as a teenager is about the same height as Sue and Tina. She has dirty blonde hair and fathomless green eyes – they're her most striking feature. She's a bit more athletic than the others, but still manages to be very feminine when needed. She generally dresses well, but doesn't have a fixation of designer brands. Tends not to wear too much make up. _

_**Personality etc: **__Donna is one of those people who love and hate to extremes. If she likes you, she'd literally die for you. If she doesn't like you, you'll probably never get a second chance to win her over. She's funny and witty (perhaps not as witty as the Wilsons). She's known for going out of her way for friends and even the odd stranger. She views Chris as a sister (she's an only child) and serves as sort of a role model for her. She's smart, but a major underachiever and can be very lazy. She often looks for the path of least resistance when it comes to work (which gets her into trouble later on). She initially didn't hate Carrie White, but grew to despise her. Donna thinks very highly of Sue and Tina, and likes Vicky and the Twins. She can't stand Helen Shyres, though. Donna's parents are kind and loving, but are clueless when it comes to discipline – they're rich, too. She got Chris hooked on horses when they were young. She disapproves of Billy Nolan, but never told Chris for fear of losing her as a friend (which wouldn't happen – Donna was probably one of the few people who Chris would actually listen to). _

_Her personality changes once she moves to Providence. She still remains friends with Chris, but gives up on being a "mean girl". She ends up attending a good college and goes into social work – with a focus on adolescents and bullying. _


	8. Chapter 6 - Momma?

_Awakening_

_Chapter 6_

_Momma_

_December 200-; Age 10_

_Carrie White, Margaret White_

"_Every child needs a safe haven – someplace where they can feel secure and loved. This is doubly true of children who are routinely bullied at school or elsewhere. This safe haven is usually provided by a caring family in a stable household. When an at-risk child lacks such a refuge the potential for tragedy is increased. We currently have more questions than answers about what type of home environment Carrietta White was brought up in, but anecdotal evidence indicates that she was in desperate need of a safe haven. The possibility that Ms. White's home life contributed to the massacre in Chamberlain cannot be discounted." _

From _Preemptive Parenting: Preventing the Next Chamberlain Disaster_ (_Parent and Child Digest, _May 19, 201_-_ ) by Marissa Sheffield.

Like most ten year olds, Carrie loved her mother. When Momma was in a good mood, she could be the most loving Momma under heaven. When she was sick, Momma would sit up at night with her. Momma would comfort her when she'd come home from school upset and in tears. They would read and sew and pray together. Momma would sing to her and they would take turns brushing each other's hair. She adored hugs from her mother – nothing calmed her down quite like being held in Momma's gentle arms. On particularly frigid winter days, Momma and Carrie would snuggle together on the couch under a heavy down comforter and take turns reading Bible passages, or perhaps just talking to each other. It was a habit Carrie was growing out of as she matured, and one that Margaret found she was beginning to miss. To put it simply, Carrie depended on her – _needed _her. Momma was the shepherd and Carrie was her willing flock.

Carrie's love for her mother, as deep and strong as it was, was tinged with an equally deep fear. Things were much different when her mother was angry. When Momma lost her temper, it was almost as if she were possessed by the very demons she often warned Carrie about. A change would come over her and her eyes would take on an eerie, sadistic glint. The same soothing voice that previously eased Carrie's pain would become cold and harsh. Instead of singing softly to her she would berate and harangue her. At that point, Carrie was no longer Momma's little girl or angel; she was devil spawn, a curse that God had burdened her with. The angrier Momma got, the louder and shriller her voice would become. From time to time she'd physically lash out at Carrie – hitting and kicking her. The same gentle hands that would guide Carrie's when she was teaching her a new sewing technique would become implements of fear and pain. And then there was the closet. The closet was filled with all manner of grotesque and frightening religious iconography that she was still too young to fully comprehend beyond the fact that they were terrible to behold. A trip to the closet was usually reserved for more serious infractions and the duration spent depended largely on how compassionate and forgiving Momma was at the moment. Carrie dreaded the closet above all else, and the threat of being shut in there was enough to send her into hysterics. She didn't consciously know how many times she had been sent to the closet, but she was aware that it was the last place on earth she wanted to be.

Carrie began to pick up on some of the subtle clues that presented themselves when Momma was entering one of her moods. Sometimes she would mutter to herself and stare off into distance, or she'd grow still and silent. At best it was like walking through a mine field at night while blind folded, and Carrie was wrong about as often as she was right. When she saw these warning signs, she'd give her mother as wide a berth as possible. Her options were limited, though and it wasn't as if she could go over to a friend's house for the evening or hang out at the mall. She didn't have friends, and was still too young to go off on her own. As a result, she spent a lot of time alone in her room reading or painting with her water colors. Occasionally, Momma would come looking for her.

As awful as the physical and emotional abuse was, it was the confusion that followed that upset Carrie the most. How could someone treat her with love and kindness one moment, only to turn around and hit her or scream at and frighten her the next? Complicating things further was the fact that her mother would just as quickly revert back to being sweet and loving. Carrie often blamed herself for her mother's anger. _I was a bad girl and I did something wrong,_ she'd often think to herself._ Momma says I'm a sinner. _She began to believe some of the things her mother would say in the heat of the moment, taking to heart that she was indeed a curse, a tool of the Devil.

This fear and confusion gave rise to a feeling Carrie didn't understand, and wouldn't understand until she was older. Locked away in her heart, alongside her love was a tiny crystal of anger – of hate. Right now, it was small; almost unnoticeable. That would eventually change. Every time Carrie was mistreated or hurt this crystal would grow, slowly hardening her heart. If anyone were to ask Carrie if she hated her mother, she'd probably deny it vehemently. She loved her Momma and knew instinctively that, in spite of her anger and abuse, Momma _loved_ her. That's the way it was meant to be. Mommas are supposed to love their children and Momma loved her. However, there was a part of her that _did _hate her, and from time to time that hate would sweep through her like a virus. 

"**CARRIETTA!" **Margaret White screamed from upstairs, her voice seemed to shake the entire house. It was a Saturday morning and she was curled up on the living room couch, reading _Devotionals for Kids_. It was bitterly cold that morning and Carrie was still dressed in her in lavender flannel pajamas. School had not been going well, and she had yet to make friends and find acceptance. Because of this, she spent much of her time at home reading. She cringed instinctively, knowing that something was wrong or was very shortly about to go wrong. There were only a few things that could cause Momma to yell like that. Either there was a fire, or she had hurt herself or was afraid that Carrie had been hurt – or Carrie had committed some sort of transgression. Carrie didn't hear the smoke detector, so it probably wasn't a fire and Momma hadn't cried out so she most likely wasn't injured. That left only one option; Carrie was in trouble, and given the fact that Momma had used her proper name, she quickly came to the conclusion that she was in _deep _trouble.

Carrie trembled as she heard her mother thunder down the steps. She knew Momma was upstairs folding laundry, but had no immediate idea as to why she'd be so angry all of a sudden. Everything seemed to be fine that morning. She was actually cheerful during morning prayers and had made waffles for breakfast afterwards. Carrie tentatively rose from the couch, and was intending to ask what was wrong when Momma stormed into the living room.

"Momma, wha…" Carrie was cut off mid sentence by a sharp blow across the face. Momma had hit her with a magazine.

It took her child-mind a second or two to piece together what had happened. Earlier in the year she had found a couple of issues of _Tween Beat _in the cafeteria and had brought them home. Carrie had a small but diverse collection of magazines, including the usual teen tabloids and the likes of _Entertainment Weekly._ She typically kept them hidden on the top shelf of her closet, behind her old Betsy Ross sewing machine. Carrie had read them each multiple times, but would still flip through them periodically. She had been leafing through an issue featuring a popular trio of boy singers the night before when her mother had knocked on her door. She had slipped it between her mattress and box spring and had forgotten about it. It never occurred to Carrie that her mother might take the initiative and change her sheets while she was doing the laundry.

"After all I've taught you, you'd dare bring this… this _smut _into our house? I cannot believe that you'd read such _perverted _filth!" Margaret's voice was a deadly, low hiss. She was still in control of her temper, but just barely. Carrie, still stunned from being struck, could only stare silently at her mother. She felt her stomach lurch and suddenly regretted the second helping of waffles she had eaten. Margaret threw the magazine across the room and seized Carrie by the shoulders.

"Per-ver-ted?" Carrie didn't know what that word meant, but she assumed it wasn't good.

"I've done everything in my power to keep you free from sin; to make sure you followed the right path. _Do you have any idea how easy it is to be led astray_?" Momma squeezed tightly. Carrie could feel her mother's nails through the fabric of her pajamas. "Oh, it starts simply enough! Dirty magazines about boys and lust-filled thoughts lead to even greater sin! I've seen it before; soon you'll be whoring about like that… that tramp from next door!"

"_Momma, please! I only wanted to…" _Margaret gave Carrie a sharp shake, cutting her off mid sentence. Her mother seemed to be looking through her.

"Where did you get them? Who gave them to you?" Margaret's nose was only an inch or two away from Carrie's. "_You don't understand how easy it is to let _**him**_ in, do you? Do you know how dangerous backsliding is? I __**do! **__I _know what awaits you if you let sin in._"_

"But Momma, the other girls…" Carrie whimpered softly.

"_The other girls? Do you mean the girls who made you miserable the last couple of years? _Oh, yes! They're _such _good role models_! _Christine Hargensen's parents might be content raising a wicked, vile whore, but no daughter of mine will debase herself like that!_" _Momma was familiar enough with the antics of Chris, Donna and the others to know that invoking them would be effective.

Margaret spun her around and forced her towards the closet, its door yawned open like a hungry beast. Carrie tried to lock her knees, but was unable to stop her forward progression. Momma was so much stronger than she was, and practically carried her.

"_Ow! Momma, stop! __**Mommy, please! You're hurting me! No! I don't want to!"**_

"You aren't like the other girls. You have to hold yourself to a higher standard. _He's _always watching and _He _will not be mocked. God has no mercy or pity for the wanton sinner."

Margaret gave her a hard shove, sending her tumbling to the cold, wooden floor of her closet. She slammed the door shut and set the lock before her daughter could get back to her feet. Almost immediately Carrie began to scream and sob loudly. Margaret placed her back against the cheap composite door and slid to the floor, her arms folded across her chest. She felt sick to her stomach. She did her best to ignore her daughter's howling and pounding_. _It was impossible to do so, however. She didn't like seeing Carrie in pain or frightened, but she needed to learn how _dangerous_ what she did was. She needed to understand how _easy _it was to be led astray. If that meant inflicting a little physical or emotional pain so be it. The closet paled in comparison to the eternal torment that awaited those who sin. Without thinking, Margaret slid the sleeve of her sweater up and dug her fingernails into her flesh. She worked her fingers back and forth for a moment or two before she felt a warm, sticky wetness. She repeated the process until there were several gouges in her forearm.

_Good, _she thought. _Blood expiates sin. _Margaret found the pain comforting: almost as if she was accepting a scourging in Carrie's place. The screaming from the closet eventually ceased and was replaced by a soft, barely audible murmuring. _Good. You pray and I'll do penance and we'll both be absolved. Jesus forgives._

"It's for your own good, little girl," Margaret murmured as much to herself as to Carrie.

Carrie had screamed until she was hoarse. Her head throbbed and she was nauseous. On occasion she would get so worked up that she would actually become physically ill. This was one of those occasions and, after a half-hearted attempt at reciting her prayers, she threw up. She contemplated calling out to Momma and ask to be let out, but thought better of it. Carrie scooted herself further into the closet, as far away from the puddle of vomit as she could get, and curled up. She was all cried out and just wanted to let sleep take her. She did drop off after a while, but was tormented by awful dreams featuring unspeakable demons and fire. Above all else, she was tormented by her own feelings – feelings of anger and hate.

_I hate her! Hate her! _Conflicting emotions danced inside of Carrie's head and heart. _How can I hate my own Momma! She loves me, I know she does! I _**love **_her! _

"Momma… I'm sorry, Momma. I'm sorry," Carrie whimpered to herself.

Hours passed by, and Margaret didn't leave her spot by the closet door. Her legs had gone numb and her back hurt, but she didn't stir until the Black Forest cuckoo clock chimed 8 PM. She no longer heard Carrie praying, and assumed she was either reading or asleep. Stiffly and slowly, she unfolded herself and stood, her joints protesting. She slid the bolt back and was stuck by the smell of vomit as soon as she opened the door. In the pale blue light, she could see Carrie nestled against the back wall.

"Angel?" Margaret gently placed a hand on her daughter's should. Carrie stirred and whimpered. "Let's get you cleaned up and to bed."

She helped Carrie to her feet, and guided her around the puddle of sickness on the floor. A short time later, she was washed, changed and tucked into bed with her stuffed lamb. Carrie had accepted Momma's offer to make toast and chamomile tea. She still felt queasy, but hadn't eaten since breakfast and managed to eat a slice and a half without getting sick again. Margaret kissed her tenderly on the forehead and shut off the light. With a sigh, she descended the stairs and set about gathering cleaning supplies.

Margaret would usually hum or sing to herself while she did her chores, but she wasn't in the mood. Instead she focused solely on scrubbing the wooden floor clean. She felt terrible about keeping Carrie locked in the closet for as long as she had, and she had no idea that she had been sick while she was in there. It had been for Carrie's own good, but that didn't make Margaret feel any better about it. She only wanted to ensure that her daughter would grow up to become a _good _and _virtuous _woman; one who would walk the path of righteousness and be free from sin. As far as she was concerned, Carrie's soul was at stake and sometimes harsh measures were called for. Margaret found some solace in that notion. She would sooner die than let Carrie fall victim to the same fate that befell her. It hurt her to punish her little girl, her _angel_, but she was more than willing to do what she thought must be done. She quietly cried to herself as she wrung the sponge out into the bucket, completely unaware that Carrie had silently crept down the stairs and was watching her.

"_Momma?"_

_**Notes: **__This chapter was loosely based on a passage about Margaret catching Carrie with a picture of "Flash" Bobby Pickett – the singer who wrote "Monster Mash". I took some artistic license and had the focus be on a teen magazine featuring some sort of Jonas Brothers type band instead (Mr. Pickett died in 2007)._

_I was kind of hesitant to post this – I'm not quite sure if it works, but here goes. I think Margaret is a fascinating character and like writing about her, but I'm not sure if I really capture her (I'm trying to avoid the outright monstrous aspects of her and am trying to focus more on the person – crazy as she might be)._

_One thing I would like to do is to show how Margaret becomes more hard-line (and violent) as time goes by – to kind of flesh out her transformation into what she ends up being._

_Three bonuses are going to be next – Misfits (focusing on Freddy, Carrie and maybe some others), Ultras (Carrie's take on the popular girls), and The World According to Chris (I haven't really come up with a title for it, but it's covers Chris's thoughts during the run up to the prom – IE how she feels about Sue et al not standing up for her). _


End file.
